Destination Mind
by Cybertiger3000
Summary: The human mind has always been shrouded in mystery. Until one hyperactive crazy, six year old  takes a daring step, a step that will lead him into the heart of his own subconscious- with disastrous consequences. Now it's up to one brave tiger to save his best friend.
1. Morning of Disaster

At eight fifteen in the morning, a tiger knocked on six year old Manny's door.

"Ah, Manfred," Hobbes grinned.

Despite it being a bit early, Manny didn't seem sleepy or like he just woke up.

"You're early today, aren't you Hobbes?" Manny said.

"Well, Calvin was spoiling the morning peace and quiet. It looked like he would carry on for a while. And I felt like stopping by your, um, beautiful and tranquil abode to be in your company for the time being."

Hobbes gave Manny his most endearing smile. Manny just raised his eyebrows.

"And?" he said.

"And we've run out of tuna," Hobbes finished sheepishly.

Manny sighed. "Come on in."

"Gladly," Hobbes said and stepped inside.

"In the kitchen, bottom cupboard, second one to the left of the sink."

"Yes sir," Hobbes hurried down the hall, rubbing his paws in anticipation. "I trust you have some bread too and a toaster. And mayonnaise, hopefully? Some ketchup wouldn't be too bad either."

"Oh yes, we've just opened a household manufacturing business for mayonnaise, ketchup and other similar products," Manny said with a sigh. "Help yourself."

When he entered the kitchen, Hobbes had already begun making his tuna sandwich. His hands moved with precise and careful movements and he watched everything with the sharp eye of an expert.

Manny opened the fridge and took out a fresh pack of orange juice.

"So what has Calvin done today?" he asked.

"Voila," Hobbes said with a flourish. "A standard and satisfying tuna sandwich made with a practiced hand." He held the sandwich in both hands, and demolished half of his masterpiece in a single bite.

"Sorry, wha' did oo say?" he said through a full, munching mouth.

"I said what happened with Calvin today?" Manny said then added, "Hobbes don't drop crumbs all over the counter. My mother takes pride in her spotless kitchen."

"Sorry," Hobbes mumbled and swallowed. "I'm not really sure what happened with Calvin. He started screaming and shouting early in the morning. Said something about a great tragedy and how his life had been ruined." He paused, taking another thoughtful bite from the sandwich, this time smaller. "I think it had something to do with his cereal."

"Uh, cereal?" Manny said.

"Cereal," Hobbes shrugged.

They were interrupted when the doorbell rang.

Then it rang again.

And again.

And again.

And again. And it kept on going.

"I wonder who that is," Manny groaned.

"You just can't get a peaceful breakfast," Hobbes sighed. "I'm betting his parents kicked him out."

"Can you get it Hobbes? I need to get back to the attic. I was doing something up there when you came."

"Is your mom not here?" Hobbes said through his again full mouth.

Manny shook his head. "At the hospital. Emergency call at three a.m." He added with a shrug, "We were supposed to go to the park but, well, duty called."

"Your dad?"

"My dad always sleeps late. Unless he's tinkering with gears and bolts in the garage, in which case, he doesn't sleep at all."

Hobbes nodded. Manny's dad worked at an electronics store and spent his free time hammering away on machine parts and gadgets in the garage. He would end up making a lot of weird inventions which usually didn't work, or, at the best, malfunctioned.

The doorbell began ringing more furiously.

"Hobbes."

"Oh yeah."

Hobbes hurried to the door while Manny went up the stairs. He heard the door open and a loud, shrill yet very familiar voice shout something.

Manny sighed and walked to where the attic's string was hanging. He pulled it and ascended the set of stairs which unfolded. He reseated himself at the low table on which he had been working but left the trapdoor open in anticipation of Hobbes and his other visitor.

Half a minute later, Hobbes poked his head through the trapdoor, sandwich in hand, to see Manny scribbling away on a piece of paper.

"Hey, move it, fleabutt!" a voice shouted from below him.

Hobbes pulled the rest of his body through and was followed by a yellow spiky-haired kid with a striped red shirt and plain black pants.

"Hey Calvin," Manny said, looking up. "So how are things today?"

"Completely terrible!" Calvin groaned.

"I see. Great." Manny continued scribbling away.

"I love what you done with the place," Hobbes commented, stroking his chin thoughtfully while observing their surroundings.

Half of the attic was being used by Manny as a kind of workplace. His table was covered with papers and a bundle of files and a small pile of books lay beside it. The rest of the attic was strewn with boxes and large piles of broken, unused and unwanted household objects or to put it more simply- junk.

"Yeah, most of the stuff which is no longer used or needed is dumped here," Many shrugged. "It's become quite a mess."

"I'll say," Calvin said, stooping over the edge of massive dump. "A hammer, an old blanket, a screwdriver, a small box of nails and something that looks oddly like the chewed up remains of a teddy bear."

He held up half a stuffed toy with most of its insides ripped out.

"That must've been Stix," Manny said.

"Urgh. Dried up dog saliva," Calvin said in disgust, quickly tossing the poor chew toy away. "And what's this?" He picked a large, thick book. "A book or an assault weapon? This thing is as thick as my head."

"Which _is_ a commendable feat," Hobbes mused.

"I know, just look at the size of this- hey!" Calvin glared at Hobbes.

"That's one of my mom's old textbooks," Manny said. "When she was doing her medical studies in college."

Calvin scoffed. "Who in their right mind would want to be a doctor?"

"Well, doctors are one of the most overpaid people on the globe," Manny said.

Calvin studied the tome with sudden interest. "You don't say."

Manny put the pencil down and studied what he had written for a few seconds. Then he turned to Calvin.

"So, apparently, a great misfortune has befallen you."

"Oh, right," Calvin tossed the book away and went to sit down at the table. Hobbes followed him.

Calvin sighed. "You won't believe it, Manny. It's simply horrible! The worst thing ever has happened to me! My life has been completely disrupted by a horrendous calamity!"

"I think I didn't put enough mayonnaise in this," Hobbes studied what was left of his sandwich regretfully.

"Shut up, fleabait!" Calvin snapped. "This is all because of you!"

"Me?" Hobbes said. "What did I do?"

"You have taken the greatest opportunity that ever came my way!" Calvin said, gritting his teeth and raising his eyes to the heavens. "You have a reduced young six year old's life to shambles! You have destroyed every chance I had of getting that which could've so easily been mine! Because of you, the whole world seems empty and dark for me! You-"

"Calvin," Manny said monotonously.

"Yeah?"

"Tell us what he did or put a sock in your mouth."

"I can see a few lying among the trash over," Hobbes pointed out helpfully.

Calvin glared and huffed. "Fine, fine. So yesterday, I had got a new box of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs. Today I opened it the first time and I noticed a coupon stuck on the back of the box. It was a jaw-dropping triple-deluxe offer guaranteeing you a discount for the next five purchases and a free Captain Napalm toy for each purchase! I couldn't believe it! I went upstairs at once to tell Mom but she kicked me out of the room complaining about it being seven-thirty in the morning. Pff, parents."

"Go on," Manny said.

"Well, I went down stairs thinking about taking the coupon when find that the whole cardboard on the box's back has been shredded away! Every single bit! Somebody just couldn't hold off his daily claw sharpening ritual."

Hobbes seemed to be suddenly interested in the palm of his hand and ignored Calvin's glare.

"You shredded his coupon, Hobbes," Manny said.

"How was I supposed to know there was a deluxe coupon stuck on the back of the box," Hobbes protested.

"Yeah, but do you just go and sharpen your claws on the first cardboard box that's in your way?"

"I didn't know! I'm always half asleep when I sharpen my claws. It's an early morning ritual of mine."

"Well next time let me splash some water on your face before you do it," Calvin said. "Once you tried to sharpen your tiny little toothpicks on the back of a pair of my pants- the same ones I wore to school that day."

"Huh, when was that?" Manny asked.

"Around two weeks ago."

"Hmm, I think I had been in the sick room at that time. Bad stomach, I guess. I remembered I could hear people screaming- or were they laughing?"

Calvin lowered his eyes bitterly, as if remembering the shame. "It was the same day I wore the Bugs Bunny underwear."

"Ow," Manny grimaced. "Speak no more. Well Hobbes, what do you have to say?"

He turned to the tiger who was shuffling uncomfortably.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he mumbled. Then, as if trying to find an excuse to not speak anything else, he stuffed the rest of his tuna sandwich in his mouth.

Calvin grunted. "But now what do I do? The greatest opportunity of my life came my way and I lost it- because of a bunch of toothpicks that needed pruning!"

"Stop calling them toothpicks," Hobbes muttered.

Calvin didn't notice or just ignored him. He sighed with despair.

"Oh well, I guess it was just a coupon code after all," he said sadly. He let his forehead drop and hit the table. "I'll just have to accept it and move on, always wondering, always regretting."

He sighed again.

Manny and Hobbes exchanged glances. Then they looked at the morose six-year old. For a few moments, they just watched him in silence. Then Manny spoke tentatively.

"Uh, Calvin."

Calvin made no response.

"I just think I should say that we got a new box of frosted sugar bombs just yesterday. It might be the same one-ack!"

Calvin's head whipped up faster than lightning, startling Manny.

"WHERE?" he practically screamed in poor Manny's face.

Manny blinked. "Uh, on top of the fridge, I think."

Later on, Manny couldn't recall just how fast Calvin had disappeared down the trapdoor. In a matter of seconds, he was gone and they could hear him pounding down the stairs.

Manny noticed Hobbes was staring at him with an expression of disbelief and disgust.

"What?"

"You actually eat that thing? Do you have any idea how much sugar they dump into it?"

"I don't eat it," Manny said. "I had it once and nearly choked. My mouth never felt the same for months."

"Then why the heck do you still have it?"

Manny groaned. "It's for Stix."

Hobbes stared at Manny. "Stix? It's for Stix? You've seen what that junk can do to a full grown six year old and you let your French bulldog eat it?"

"It was Dad's fault. Mom had to take me to the dentist once. Dad was left alone to babysit Stix. Stix was being loud and noisy- and you know my dad never likes noise unless it's made by a machine- so he gave Stix a bowl of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs to shut him up. Ever since then, he's been addicted!"

"Urgh, poor guy," Hobbes said. "That's harsh, even for a dog."

"Mom's been getting worried about. Says he'll gain weight which is unsafe for bulldogs, seeing as they're already a bit plump."

"A bit?" Hobbes snorted.

They were interrupted by a familiar scream of despair.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Hobbes looked down. "Hmm, now that doesn't sound reassuring."

Manny sighed and got up. "What happened now?"

They went down the ladder and headed for the kitchen. When they reached it they found Calvin kneeling over a cereal box. The box's back cover had been ripped to shreds and the pieces of printed cardboard littered the floor. But how?

The answer sat a little distance away, sitting on four pudgy feet with its stubborn head in the air.

" Stix!" Manny said. "No! It's not sugar time yet!"

The dog glared at Manny and Hobbes and growled.

Calvin wrung his hair. "My last chance!" he cried. "My last chance! And foiled by a dumb animal again! Your dog is a menace!" He glared, pointing at Stix.

Stix met his gaze with an expression that clearly said, _Don't point that finger at me._

"Move it, you bad dog!" Manny said. "Get out of here!"

The French bulldog padded away and settled down in a corner.

Calvin stood up and angrily kicked the box. "My dreams have been dashed away over and over again!"

"Come on, Calvin," Manny said. "We don't even know if it's the same box with the coupon."

Hobbes picked the box up and studied what seemed to be the only unscathed area.

"'To learn more about this super deluxe offer look below'," he read. "Uh, that's all that's legible."

There was a moment of silence. Then Calvin seized the box, threw it on the floor, and started stamping on it. When he was done, he stomped angrily out of the kitchen saying, "Dogs and tigers! They're all the same!"

"Hey!" Hobbes cried out crossly. "That is not true. Tigers have better hygiene."

Stix barked from his corner.

"You better believe it, bulldog," Hobbes sneered. "When it comes etiquettes and manners, we tigers are in our prime."

Stix growled a reply.

"Ha! You wouldn't know etiquette even if it punched you in the face!"

Another bark. Another growl.

"Well, I can demonstrate it for you if you want." Hobbes showed his fist.

A few more barks.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he said angrily.

And another growl.

"Hey!" Hobbes paused then turned to Manny and said grudgingly, "He may have a point."

Manny stared at him and the bulldog. "Right, so I'll leave you too to continue this friendly discussion."

"If it keeps up the way it is going it might not remain friendly for long," Hobbes muttered darkly.

Stix growled a challenge.

"Oh yeah. You think you can take my claws, can you?" Hobbes spread out the fingers of one hand, showing off his pointy claws.

Stix barked sniffily.

Hobbes gritted his teeth. "Why does everyone call my claws toothpicks?" he asked Manny.

Manny rolled his eyes and walked out the kitchen, deciding to look after Calvin. He couldn't find him in any of the rooms downstairs so he went upstairs again. There he saw that the trapdoor was open again.

"Calvin, are you there?" Manny called.

"Currently there, soon to be dying," came the grumbled reply.

Manny sighed and climbed up the ladder.

Calvin was sitting cross-legged and slumped at the low table. Manny went to sit down next to him, then decided on the opposite side of the table. You never know when he would burst in a rage-filled tantrum.

"Calvin," Manny said in the gentle way an adult would talk to a child.

Calvin grunted.

"I'm sorry for your… uh… loss. I know it must be very hard for you right now."

Calvin sighed grumpily. "I guess it was fate," he muttered. "It's like I always said, no matter how hard we try, in the end we always have to face the tragedies and losses which fate throws in our way. Who are we to go against our destiny?"

"So true," Manny said, nodding. "So I guess that means you're over the whole incident with the Sugar Bombs coupon."

Calvin scowled. "Heck, no! I'll go home and grumble and complain about my horrible luck for at least an hour before I'll be over the coupon incident."

"Ah."

They sat in silence for sometime while Calvin's eyes glared out at nothing under his furrowed eyebrows. Then they were joined by Hobbes, who looked just as grumpy as Calvin.

"Your mutt sure knows how to debate," he muttered to Manny when he sat down with them.

Manny said nothing but sighed again mentally. What a cheerful morning this was turning out to be. He picked up the nearest book- something about the history of medieval art- and buried himself in it, hoping to ignore the grumpiness that was in the air.

Hobbes started reading the papers on which Manny had been writing out of boredom while Calvin sat and glared at thin air.

After sometime, Hobbes spoke, thankfully breaking the silence.

"What is all of this?" he asked, holding up the sheaf of papers. Most of his moodiness seemed to have gone.

"Oh that," Manny said, looking up. "It's just a paper I started writing recently. An essay, you could say."

"'The Inner Workings of Greater Minds'," Hobbes read. "'A sample study of some of the greatest personalities on the globe and the psychological influences on their life and decisions."

Calvin snapped out of his gloomy reverie, leaning forward to get a look at the paper. Hobbes gave Manny a quizzical look.

Manny shrugged. "I was writing it for the Scientist's Journal of Pyschology," he said. "It's a science magazine. "

"You're gonna get it published there?" Hobbes asked, raising an eyebrow.

Manny's face reddened. "Hey, I know I'm six years old. Fine, that's still-"

"I'm not insulting you," Hobbes said quickly. "Anyone who knows you well could easily see that you are smarter than the average six year old. Way smarter. I just never knew you were _this_ smart."

Manny's face turned redder. "Now come on, you guys are acting like I'm some child prodigy."

"I think you are," Calvin said. He took the sheaf into his hand and scanned the first page. "I mean, all this stuff you wrote…"

"It sounds professional, right?" Manny asked a bit nervously."

"Professional? I can't understand a word!"

"Which is a sure sign that it's professional," Hobbes assured.

The duo was not exaggerating. From the day they befriended Manny they could see that he was surprisingly intelligent and had a vast knowledge ranging from different topics ('Though he doesn't have the dashing flair that is the mark of a true genius,' Calvin had said haughtily).

He was an ace in school even though he would skip it every two or three days. When asked for the reason, he would simply say that a lot of times he would get bored in the class. The same excuse with Calvin though for a different reason. Manny already knew what was being taught in the class better than the teachers who taught it while Calvin simply didn't care.

It was plain to see that Manny's IQ was beyond first grade. Most likely beyond high school.

"So you're actually going to try and publish this in a renowned, national science journal?" Hobbes said.

"Well I did submit two pieces in National Geographic last month," Manny said with another shrug. "They both got published."

Hobbes whistled. "I might be in the company of this century's Albert Einstein."

"Oh come on," Manny protested. "I'm nowhere near Albert Einstein. I just have some extra knowledge and a scientific curiosity. That's all."

"Mm-hmm," Hobbes grinned. "Just remember that when you go on talk shows be sure to mention your two best buds, Calvin and Hobbes."

"Ha, ha," Manny muttered. "Enough, okay. I just wanted to research and study the psychological influences on the lives of people like Leonardo Da Vinci and Newton."

"Right. Hey Calvin, let me see that first-grade thesis… uh, Calvin?" Hobbes stared.

Calvin was reading the papers with intense concentration, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought hard about something. Hobbes and Manny had never seen Calvin read even a school assignment with that concentration let alone a scientific thesis.

Calvin slowly put papers on the table but he still had that concentrated, thoughtful look.

"Uh, Calvin?" Manny said.

Calvin didn't seem to hear. Then all of a sudden his face lit up with a grin and he sprang up with a cry, pumping his fist in the air triumphantly and startling his two companions.

"I've got it!" he said. "By golly, I've got it!"

"Got what?" Manny asked.

"The coupon," Calvin grinned. "The code on the coupon! I still have it!"

"Where?" Hobbes said. "I thought I scratched it to its doom."

Calvin shook his head, like an adult explaining something to an uncomprehending child.

"When I read the coupon on the back of the box I also saw the code," he said. "So it got stored away in the one place from which it could not go!"

Manny and Hobbes stared at Calvin blankly.

Calvin sighed.

"In here," he said, tapping the side of his head with his finger.

A silence followed in which Hobbes and Manny exchanged looks.

"What is he talking about?" Manny asked.

"I think he's saying he kept a copy of the coupon code in the place where his brain should be," Hobbes shrugged. "That would explain a lot of other things too."

Calvin glared at him.


	2. An Experiment Gone Wrong

Manny's front door burst open and Calvin rushed out at top speed. He sped down the yard, took a narrow turn and screeched down the graveled street. When Manny and Hobbes came outside, he was already gone.

"Good heavens, what's he up to now?" Hobbes frowned.

"Apparently something to do with the working draft of my paper on psychology," Manny said, equally nonplussed.

However, Manny was beginning to feel a bit uneasy. He couldn't imagine what stroke of inspiration Calvin got from his thesis, especially when it came to a Sugar Bombs coupon. What did he mean by tapping his head and saying 'In there'?

Manny's frown deepened. He couldn't have possibly been thinking about- but what was he going to do?

"I think we should go after him," Manny said.

Hobbes hesitated. "Are you sure? I don't like this genius stroke that Calvin had. It's stuff like that which usually gets us into the worst trouble imaginable."

"I still think we should," Manny said. "There's no telling what Calvin will do in the excited state he's in. He might hurt himself."

"Of course he will," Hobbes said like it was obvious. "A day without any bruises, cuts, lacerations, fractured bones, mental trauma et cetera et cetera is a day wasted for Calvin."

"Let's just move."

Hobbes shrugged. "Lead the way, Manfred."

Manny hurried back inside and grabbed a pencil and paper. He quickly wrote a note to his dad telling him where he had gone and went to stick it on the fridge. Hobbes followed him. Stix was still sitting in a corner doing nothing and thinking about what dogs usually think about when they sit in a corner.

"Stix, Manny's going out for a while so be a good boy and don't annoy dad, alright."

The dog grunted in reply.

"Don't talk to your master like that," Hobbes glared at the dog. He must've still been smarting from their recent debate. "Really, Manny, you should teach your dog manners."

Stix growled something at Hobbes. Probably something along the lines of 'Like you have some'.

"Oh please," Hobbes sneered at him. "You haven't seen me in my suit and cummerbund."

The dog growled again, this time with a look on his face which could have passed for a slight smirk.

Hobbes growled. "Don't you start that argument again!"

"Come on, Hobbes," Manny sighed and pulled Hobbes after him.

They left the house and started down the street, going to Calvin's home, deciding that that's where he would most likely be.

"I still don't like this," Hobbes said doubtfully. "This is usually how most of our near-death adventures begin."

"Just move," Manny said.

But the feeling of unease was still inside him. He had heard all about Calvin and Hobbes's 'adventures' and was glad that, so far, he did not have to participate in the more extreme ones, i.e, the ones that involved time travelling, dinosaurs, unruly clones, underprepared trips to mars, and drooling monsters under the bed. But he had a feeling that he was now heading for his very first one with the duo.

How right he was.

* * *

><p>Calvin was at home, in his room to be exact. And setting up a strange contraption.<p>

His old cardboard box, which he had used for a myriad of strange purposes (time travel and genetic cloning, to name a few), was on the floor, upside down and flaps out. A green rubber hose pipe was stuck to it, connecting it to a rusty bicycle helmet that was lying on the floor. A small cord was stuck into the box's other side and its other end was plugged into an outdated game boy. On the bedside table was a small glass bottle half-filled with some blue pills sitting next to a glass of water.

Manny and Hobbes walked in on Calvin as he was admiring his handiwork. They stopped as they took in the setup on the floor.

"Hello Calvin," Hobbes said. "Hello strange-weird-looking-thing-who's-sinister-purpose-I-have-no-wish-to-know-of."

"Calvin, what is that?" Manny asked.

"What do you think?" Calvin asked proudly. "I spent an entire twenty minutes or so on it."

"Must have been tiring," said Hobbes.

"But what is it?" Manny asked again. Despite its harmless appearance and its ordinary components, Manny didn't like the look of that thing.

"This is the invention which will help me get the Sugar Bombs coupon code back!" Calvin said excitedly. "It is a sensational breakthrough! Something that will extend and redefine the boundaries of science! This invention may well rock the very core of our thinking and perception!"

Manny and Hobbes stared at him blankly.

"It's a cardboard box, a rubber pipe, a bicycle helmet and a gameboy," Hobbes said.

Calvin sighed. "Nobody ever did understand genius."

"Enlighten us," Manny said.

"This baby's gonna help me take a look into my own mind," Calvin said.

"Excuse me?"

Calvin took on the patient look of an adult explaining something to a confused child.

"Notice this cardboard box. Of course, that's what you would call it but the more intuitive among us would see that it is more than just a cardboard box. It is the Mind Traveller 3000! With the assistance of a few other necessary objects, this invention can force the highest point of my conscience- that is, me- further and further back into the brain and also focus that point into a single immaterial body but relatively solid you could say, thereby, allowing me to travel my mind freely at will!"

Calvin finished with a flourish, clearly proud of his invention.

Hobbes's eyes had glazed over and Manny had a confused look on his face.

"Just like that?" Manny said.

Calvin frowned, not happy with the lack of response he was meeting.

"Well of course, not just like that,' he said matter-of-factly. "There is the required assistance of the other objects which I mentioned."

He pointed to the helmet. "The pipe will lead the Traveller's energy charges to the helmet thereby transmitting it to my head."

He went to the game boy. "Once I am fully sucked into the mind, the Mind Traveller will show my neural scan and also what is happening around me the way I perceive it through this game boy. That way, you can keep a check on me."

"Um, intriguing," said Manny.

"It is surprising how much you can achieve with common household objects," Hobbes noted

Calvin beamed. "Isn't it? And I have you to thank as well, Manny."

"Me?"

"Yes, I do." Calvin picked up the tiny bottle of pills. "This is a container of very strong and effective sedatives which I picked up at your house. It will put me into a deep sleep, inducing in me a near-comatose state which would be highly essential for this experiment to be a success."

"Some people have a very twisted idea of the meaning of success," Hobbes said.

Manny groaned. "I told my Mom not to leave her medical equipment lying around."

"How did you know those pills were sedatives?" Hobbes asked.

Calvin shrugged. "I tested them."

"On what?"

Another nonchalant shrug. "On a test dummy."

"You were the one who drugged Mrs. McKinley's dog, weren't you?"

"So moving on," Calvin said loudly. "I think that concludes my explanation of this wondrous gadget. So let us-"

"Just one question," Manny said, raising his hand.

"Manfred," Calvin nodded in acknowledgement.

"Why? And how?"

"Eh?"

"Why are you doing this? And how will it get back the coupon code?"

Calvin shook his head. "It's obvious, isn't it? Today morning when I saw the coupon I read the code. The image was imprinted on my retinas which then transmitted them through the optic nerve to my brain which registered and the stored the information. I don't remember the code right now. But it's still there, somewhere in my subconscious! The subconscious mind takes note of everything."

"All this for a coupon on the back of a cereal box?" Hobbes said.

"In the end, it's all done for the sake of science, Hobbes," Calvin said wisely.

"Indeed, nearly all horrifying and dangerous quests that have gone terribly wrong were done in the name of science."

Calvin glared. "Really, can't you guys be a bit more supportive?"

"But Calvin," said Manny. "This could be dangerous. Nothing like this has ever been done in the history of mankind. Who knows what you will find in the mind? Or how you'll cope with it?"

"But I told you it's perfectly safe," Calvin said, folding his arms.

"You also said that your duplicator and time machine were safe too. And from what Hobbes has told me they were most definitely not."

Calvin glared at Hobbes who stuck out his tongue in reply.

"Just listen," Manny said, putting a hand on Calvin's shoulder. "It's just a coupon code. It's not the end of your life. And you're six years old. You can't handle such dangerous stuff at that age."

"Tough talk from a kid who's had his papers published in renowned science magazines," Hobbes said.

"Shut it Hobbes," Manny said. He turned back to Calvin. "Science is not something worth dying for. Far from it. The quest for science has ruined the world more than it has advanced it in my opinion. Global warming, disappearing forests, endangered animals- all of these were the result of scientific advancements. Who knows what horrors your trip into the mind can unleash upon humanity? Do you really want to be a part of such an abominable cause?"

Calvin was silent, as if in deep thought. He took a deep breath. His brows were furrowed as he thought over Manny's words.

"Hear, hear," Hobbes said encouragingly.

"Heck! Nobody could blame global warming on a single man," Calvin scoffed. "Besides, I could get rich if this experiment turns out all right! Now excuse me while I get the equipment ready."

He stooped over the cardboard box which was scribbled with buttons and had paper dials and knobs stuck on it in a confusing array.

Manny groaned and sat back on the bed. Hobbes sat beside him.

"Oh well, you tried your best, Manny," Hobbes said, patting his friend's hand. "The speech was very moving, by the way."

"I just said that to try and stop him," Manny whispered angrily so Calvin wouldn't hear. "I really have a bad feeling about this."

"Oh, well, I still think it's probably true, all that you said," Hobbes sighed. "People like Calvin usually end up making the world a worse place than it already was."

Manny nodded glumly. "Though there still is a chance that science can return the world to its proper state, even if it won't be exactly the same. Who knows," he added with a shrug, "maybe Calvin's experiment might end up working fine with no harmful consequences and we'll all be safe and sound."

There was a pause. Hobbes and Manny looked at each other.

"Unlikely."

"I agree."

"Alright boys!" Calvin stood up, grinning. "Let's rev this thing up!"

"So you're really going to go through with this aren't you?" Manny said.

"You betcha!"

He sighed and stood up. "Right, then let's just get started. What do we have to do?"

"Okay, I've put in the required settings," Calvin said, looking over the strange assortment of buttons, knobs and dials which he had drawn with his marker. "All you have to do is turn this knob when I tell you to." He pointed to a large red knob at the top of the 'dashboard' with to signs scribbled around it: Off and On. It was mercifully pointing to Off. For the moment, that is.

"And then just watch the magic start. A minute or so after I've gone down the Traveller will have begun to transmit data to the game boy and you can switch between my neural scans to my viewpoint whenever you want. The instructions on how to do it are written on that piece of paper."

He pointed to a paper lying next to the game boy on the desk.

"Well that's all very well," Hobbes said and got up. "Now if you would excuse me, I'll hide under the bed while you two enjoy toying with death."

"Sissy," Calvin muttered.

Hobbes ignored him and, in the most dignified way he could manage, proceeded to crawl under the bed.

Manny sighed. "So I guess I'll have to manage the whole thing."

"Thanks, Manny, always knew I could count on you," Calvin said brightly than added in a louder voice, "Unlike some people I know."

There came a gruff 'hmph' from under the bed.

"Let's get started." Calvin rubbed his hands in anticipation and picked up the sedatives and the glass of water. He went to helmet, sat down, and put it on his head. He picked up the pills, and then paused.

"How many pills should I take, Manny? Do you think I should dump them all in?"

"Well that would be a more peaceful way to die," Manny said, rolling his eyes. "It's a good thing you didn't try this on your own. Two would be sufficient, I think."

Calvin took out to pills and dropped them in the water. They dissolved within seconds, leaving the liquid as colorless and clear as before.

"Get into position, Manny," Calvin said, his voice now taking on a more serious tone as they neared the climax of his great invention. "As soon as I drink this and fall unconscious you have to turn the knob."

Manny nodded. His throat was a bit dry. He walked over to the box and knelt down. He reached out and touched the knob.

Calvin nodded back. "On three," he said, his voice now a whisper.

A muffled whimper came from the bed. The uneasy feeling in Manny's stomach was rising. He realized the full impact of what they were doing right now. Nothing like this had been ever attempted in the history of man. Nothing.

"One…," Calvin said, his hand tightening around the glass. His voice seemed to quiver. "Two…"

He opened his mouth to say the final word but suddenly hesitated, staring at the glass in his hand. And in that split second, Manny hoped, he just hoped-

"Three."

Before the word had fully come out Calvin had raised the glass to his mouth and drained it. His hands shook and his eyes met Manny's, who couldn't tell if there was fear or excitement in them. Then the eyes rolled up and he fell back, the glass clunking on the floor.

Manny shut his own eyes and twisted the knob hard.

The cardboard box abruptly began to hum. Manny moved away from it until his back was against the bed. Hobbes poked his head out.

"He did it?" the tiger whispered, wide eyed.

Manny nodded.

The humming sound turned into a whirring which then became a shrill whine.

Manny jumped up and ran to the door, closing it softly. He had no idea what Calvin's mother would think if she came up right now. He turned and watched the unfolding event in silence.

The cardboard box was shaking, a faint glow coming from its buttons and knobs. The whine reached a peak and Manny saw the rubber pipe light up, saw sparks of electricity racing down its length towards Calvin's helmet.

There was a flash of blue and a crackle of electricity. Hobbes squeaked and disappeared under the bed. Manny covered his eyes. Through his fingers he saw Calvin's body leap a foot in the air, arms and legs twitching in a spasm, electricity zigzagging across him from head to toe.

Then he was back on the floor, fingers still twitching, a few sparks still flying from his hair.

Manny took a step forward, wondering if it was done. Then the box's whining went shriller than ever. The pipe shone blue a second time and Manny heard the crackling buzz again as electricity raced down the pipe once more, brighter and stronger.

Manny instinctively closed his eyes but the blue flash, brighter than ever, still pierced through his eyelids. He fell to his knees with a gasp, pressing his palms against his eyes. He wasn't sure how long he sat like that but he soon became aware of the noise of something tossing and thudding on the floor.

Hesitantly, Manny opened his eyes and looked.

Sparks were still flying down the pipe. And Calvin was wildly twisting and convulsing on the floor, his arms and legs jerking uncontrollably. His eyes were screwed shut and his jaw firmly closed.

Manny half-rose, wanting to help Calvin. But he hesitated, seeing the small jolts of electricity still criss-crossing across his body.

Then, quite abruptly, everything stopped.

The box stopped humming. The sparks stopped flying. And Calvin was still, his head lolling to one side.

Hobbes looked out from under the bed.

His eyes met Manny's who said nothing. Slowly, they got up and walked to where Calvin lay.

He was now completely still, eyes shut and mouth slightly open. Manny could just discern a the tiniest of sparks still flicking across his teeth.

They stood there, staring at him, unsure as to what they should do.

"How do we know it worked?" Hobbes asked finally.

"The game boy," Manny remembered.

Quickly, they walked to the desk where the game boy lay. Its red light was now on and the screen was glowing.

"What _is_ that?" Hobbes said in disgust as they looked at it.

"It's a close up neural scan of the brain."

"Looks like a bunch of squiggly lines. It reminds me of maggots. Yechh."

"Really Hobbes-"

"But it does."

Manny ignored him and studied the scan with interest. It did indeed look like a confusing bunch of squiggly lines. Hobbes couldn't see what was so interesting about it. He was starting to feel a bit queasy just by looking at the thing.

"Let's see what we can do here," Manny muttered, taking the game boy in his hands. He carefully began to fiddle with the buttons. After a few seconds he gave a nod of satisfaction.

The entire image had suddenly shrunk and zoomed out so that, in a matter of seconds, they were now looking at a scan of Calvin's entire brain.

"So that's how you zoom in and zoom out," Manny said.

"The brain has always looked so disgusting," Hobbes grimaced.

"From here the brain looks inactive and dull," Manny said. "Not much sign of activity. That is obvious because the conscious has, in a way, retreated to the deeper levels. So to actually study the neural activity, we will have to zoom onto the deeper parts of Calvin's brain."

"Fascinating," Hobbes nodded. "I'm guessing that means more squiggly lines again."

"I think it does."

"I'll go check how Calvin's doing."

Hobbes turned and walked away.

Manny rolled his eyes and focused on the game boy.

"So Calvin said that we could switch from the neural scan to his viewpoint," he continued speaking. "That means we'll see what he sees. Through his eyes. So it won't be what is actually in the mind, but how perceives it. What he sees in the mindspace. Hmm, nice word, I just made it. Now how do I get to his point of view?"

"Manfred?"

"Yes." Manny looked back.

Hobbes had seated himself on the bed, one of Calvin's treasured comic books in his hand and a permanent black marker in the other.

"Who are you talking to?"

"Nobody in particular," Manny shrugged.

"Uh-huh. Why don't you check that sheet of paper with the instructions?"

"Oh, right."

Manny picked up the paper and began reading from it.

Hobbes studied the open page of the comic book intently.

"Hm? Manny?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think Captain Napalm would look good with a French beard or a goatee?"

Manny rolled his eyes. "Why don't you give him sideburns?"

"Ooh, I think I would like that."

Manny sighed. Hobbes just couldn't miss a chance to add some extra designs to Calvin's favorite comics. Even at times like this. He read the instructions carefully then continued fiddling around with the game boy.

Just a minute later, he gave a nod of satisfaction.

"I think I got it," he said then paused uncertainly. "Or at least I think I did."

"What is the other screen supposed to show?" Hobbes asked.

"It's supposed to show what Calvin sees in the mind, or what he thinks he's seeing."

"Well what do you see right now?"

Manny frowned. "It's all dark."

"You mean it's showing nothing?"

"No it's like… like – Come here and look."

Hobbes could hear unease creeping back into his friend's voice. He put down the comic book and went to Manny's side, looking over his shoulder.

At first, he thought the screen was blank. Everything was black.

But then, he noticed subtle movements on the screen, smooth and flowing. And he realized. The blackness itself was moving. It was shimmering, billowing in soft sinewy patterns, like a curtain stirred by the wind. Something about it reminded Hobbes of a snake, venomous, slithering yet entrancing.

The blackness seemed… alive.

"That's what Calvin is seeing," Hobbes said, his voice hushed.

"Yes," Manny said.

"Meaning that he's actually there in front of that… thing?"

Manny nodded.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. It could just be a fancy illusion. Who knows how we might see things in our own mind."

"So you don't think it's dangerous?"

Manny hesitated. It was just an illusion. Just the way Calvin was seeing his mind. What harm could it pose?

But when he opened his mouth, he said, "I don't know."

And as they watched, the first dim purple lights began to gleam through the shimmering folds of darkness.

* * *

><p>Calvin blinked, looking around.<p>

Everywhere he looked he saw an empty blackness. He seemed to have ended up in the middle of nothingness. Hmm, this was not what he had expected.

The silence was beating on his ears and he felt a sudden urge to break it. He opened his mouth, then hesitated, ceased by a sudden fear that he might not be able to speak, might not be able to make a sound, wondering if he had turned blind and dumb. He strained his lungs. For a second, no sound came from his throat and the fear grew.

Then a hoarse cry came through his lips and he relaxed. Clearing his throat, he called again.

"Hello?"

His voice echoed around him, as if he was in a large cavern or on the peak of a tall hill.

He looked down and, with more relief, perceived that he wasn't blind. He could see himself, his entire body, hands, feet, shirt and all. But his feet touched no ground and he could see nothing else. He was floating in a vast emptiness, with nothing but himself. No space, no matter. Nothing.

Calvin felt the first few tinges of fear in his heart. Then he felt annoyed at himself for feeling scared.

Heck! This was his mind! He owned every single immaterial cubic inch of it! What was there to be afraid of?

Then he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked so sharply his neck cricked (or did he just imagine that it cricked?). Then he saw more movement out of the other corner of his eye.

He looked again. And suddenly, the movements were everywhere, fluid and unreal.

It was the darkness, the whole empty space around him. It was moving, twisting and folding gently, as if he was seeing it through rippling water.

What was going on?

Calvin felt a chill go down his spine.

He cleared his throat and, half in defiance of his growing unease, said aloud, "Stop that. Stop moving."

His voice quivered slightly, which fuelled his annoyance. "Stop moving! I am your master! You're my mind! I command you to stop moving!"

But instead, the ripples in the space seem to move quicker. Faint gleams of purple began to appear through slits in the blackness, blurred and unclear.

"By golly, can't a mind learn some manners? When I say stop I mean STOP!"

A giddy feeling swept over Calvin. His hands and feet began to feel numb. His own voice sounded far away as he continued shouting recklessly at the top of his lungs.

"Heck! You just won't take orders! I am the reason you exist! In this place, I am god! STOP MOVING!"

The purple lights were growing brighter rapidly. Calvin was feeling breathless as if the oxygen was being sucked out of the air around him. Or maybe it was just the fear grasping his throat and bubbling like acid in his stomach.

"THIS IS THE LAST WARNING! STOP MOVING! STOP THESE LIGHTS! I COMMAND YOU! STOP IT NOW! OR ELSE I'LL-"

But whatever he was planning to say was lost. Everything around him exploded into a confusion of blinding colors and horrible, red-hot pain coursed through every inch of his body. All thought was obliterated. He lost all sense of where he was, who he was.

And then… he was lost.


	3. He's Not Calvin

"Something's wrong."

In the few minutes that had passed since they had inspected the weird moving black thingy on the game boy screen, Hobbes had been busy indulging himself in defiling Calvin's comic books one by one. He meticulously worked through each page, adding mustaches, sideburns, horns etc.

Now he paused and looked up from his work.

Manny was frowning at the game boy.

"What?" Hobbes asked.

"I can't see Calvin anymore. I mean I can't see his viewpoint."

"Why? What happened?"

"The screen, it's all blank and hazy."

Hobbes got up and went over to inspect. The game boy was still on, but the screen had turned white. Or more like a very light gray.

Hobbes lowered his head to look closer. He thought he could just discern hazy shapes moving in the gray. Just.

"When did it happen?"

"Just now," Manny said. "I think there was some kind of flash of colors or something, I'm not sure, I was distracted. When I looked back it had turned gray."

"Are you sure this is what he's seeing?" Hobbes said.

"I don't know," Manny shook his head. "I can't say. Maybe he's unconscious."

Hobbes frowned. "How can you be unconscious inside your conscious?"

"Oh, I don't know!" Manny threw his arms up in exasperation.

"Hmm, you would expect the mind to be a bit more descriptive and vivid than this. Something more solid or discernible."

"I don't like this, Hobbes."

"Of course not, it's just one bunch of moving colors, then another bunch. And from a mind belonging to someone like Calvin, that is a bit disappointing."

"But what's happening?" Manny asked.

"How am I supposed to know?" Hobbes said, irritated. "You're the whiz kid who's writing a professional thesis on psychology for a national science journal. You tell me."

"Nobody knows anything about this kind of stuff, Hobbes. No man has ever crossed the boundaries of psychology and come this far."

"And yet, a six year old kid somehow manages it," Hobbes commented, scratching his chin. "What a strange world."

"My point is we are completely unprepared for a situation like this," Manny said emphatically. "We have no idea what dangers, what problems can be posed. We have no idea what is happening to Calvin right now! And how is he supposed to get out?"

Hobbes opened his mouth to say something, and then hesitated. "He mentioned how he would get out, didn't he?"

Manny shook his head. "I don't think so."

They stared at each other for a few moments.

"This is not good," Hobbes concluded.

At that very auspicious moment, the box- or the Mind Traveller 3000- began whirring in its high-pitched way.

"I think it's about to get a lot worse," Manny said.

He hurried to the machine, inspecting it warily. It was quivering slightly as it whined.

"What's wrong with it?" Hobbes said.

"I don't know!" said Manny.

"Do something!"

"What? I don't know how to use this thing."

The dials and buttons were glowing slightly. And the whining seemed to be getting louder, its buzz practically drilling into Manny's ears.

"Hobbes, check Calvin," Manny said.

Giving the box a wide berth, Hobbes moved to where Calvin was still lying on the floor. He reached out to touch his arm- then leaped back with a cry.

"He shocked me!" Hobbes groaned, shaking his hand furiously. "As soon as my finger came within an inch of his skin. Ow! It stings!"

Manny looked at Calvin. His hair was standing on end and his fingers were twitching. Sparks were running up and down his body again.

He had to do something.

Hesitantly, Manny reached for the controls on the box. But before he could, a shining crackling bolt of pure energy shot out from the surface of the box, coming within a fingers breadth of Manny's head and flew through the open window.

Manny scrambled back with an incoherent cry. The skin where the bolt had come close was smarting.

Hobbes, who had seen enough, proceeded to scurry under the bed. Manny threw himself into the space between the bed and Calvin's desk and crouched there.

Sparks and small jagged lines of electricity were crackling across the surface of the box and were moving across the pipe to where Calvin lay twitching. Another jagged line of electricity loosed itself from the box, connecting it to the wall. It stayed there for a few moments, a blinding crackling line of light, before imploding into a bunch of sparks.

Then another bolt. And another. The air was filled with their crackling buzz.

One bolt slammed into the light bulb above Manny's head, which shattered with a blinding flash. Manny crouched lower, covering his head with his arms to shield against the broken glass and dust.

He heard someone calling from downstairs. It sounded like it was right from the foot of the stairs.

Calvin's mom!

_Don't let her come up!_ Manny pleaded. _She can't come up now._

Then, with an outburst of noise, multiple bolts of jagged lightning burst from the box simultaneously and flew in all directions, scorching the walls and floors and bathing the room in blinding light.

Manny screwed his eyes shut. Why did it always end like this?

And end it did. The next moment, everything was quiet. Everything was still.

Manny opened his eyes. The room seemed so dark without the blue light. He could barely see. He could feel dust floating all around him.

"Calvin!" Calvin's mother's voice came from downstairs. "What are you doing? I'm coming up!"

"No," Manny gasped.

He staggered upright and was immediately beset by a bout of dizziness.

"Hobbes," Manny coughed. "Where are you?"

"Here."

As Manny's eyes adjusted to the light, he saw the fuzzy shape of Hobbes's head poking out from under the bed.

Footsteps. On the stairs.

"Oh dear god, she's coming up!" Manny said. "We can't let her see what happened here."

"Do you think she'll notice?"

"_Can't you see the state of the room?"_ Manny snapped.

"Sorry," Hobbes meekly and quickly scrambled out.

The room, needless to say, looked like what a room should look like after it's been zapped and hit by over a dozen bolts of lightning. It was wrecked.

"Calvin?"

She had reached the top of the stairs.

"Do something!" Manny whispered urgently.

Hobbes looked around wildly. The footsteps started again. They had barely seconds left!

"Ah!' Hobbes said and leaped for the desk. He grabbed something from it- a water pistol?- and tossed it to Manny.

"Transmogrifier!" Hobbes whispered. "It's telepathic. It can create whatever you think of or imagine. Hurry!"

Without any conscious thought, Manny raised the transmogrifier and pointed it.

First at one wall.

ZAP!

Then another.

ZAP!

Then the other two.

ZAP! ZAP!

Then the floor and the furniture.

ZAP! ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!

The door opened and Calvin's mom looked in.

"Everything all right, dears?" She asked then gasped. "What's wrong with Calvin?"

Manny looked at Calvin, who was still lying on the floor, and noted that he was still holding the transmogrifier gun aimed and ready.

"Uh, game! It was a game!" he said quickly. "We were playing a, you know, uh, game where we were pretending to have a, um, a- a shootout! Yeah! And I shot Calvin," he finished with a nervous grin.

Calvin's mom frowned. "So he's just playing dead?"

"Yup," Manny said, "And he's really good. Plays it realistic. Won't respond at all."

"But I heard noises," she insisted.

"Well Calvin and Hobbes were playing a bit rough, if you get what I mean," Manny shrugged. "A bit of hand-to-hand combat, yes."

Calvin's mom was still frowning suspiciously. She looked at where Calvin's stuffed tiger was sitting innocently next to the bed.

"Well alright," she said. "You boys be careful, now."

And she left.

Manny waited until he heard her footsteps recede down the stairs, and then breathed a sigh of relief.

"Some quick thinking on your part Manny," Hobbes nodded.

"Thanks," Manny said. "Oh wait, I think he's waking up."

Calvin was indeed beginning to stir.

Manny and Hobbes rushed to his side and knelt down beside him.

"Are you telling me that all that commotion and blue electric bolts and lightning had happened only to bring Calvin back?" Hobbes asked.

"Well _I'm_ not telling you but it does seem plausible," Manny shrugged.

"Sheesh," Hobbes muttered. "I could've died."

Calvin groaned and slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the light. His eyes then focused on the faces of Manny and Hobbes leaning right over him. They widened and he sprang back with a cry. His right hand came up in a flash and gripped Hobbes's throat, tight as iron.

Hobbes's eyes bugged out and he began choking, clawing at his throat.

"Calvin!" Manny shouted. "What are you doing? Let go!"

He grabbed Calvin's hand, tugged as hard as he could, trying to separate them.

A tinge of blue was coming over Hobbes's face as he tried to pull away. He gargled, spittle appearing at the corners of his mouth.

"Let go!" Manny cried, pulling with all his might.

Calvin abruptly let go and Hobbes fell back. He scrambled away until he was against the wall, taking deep, shuddering breaths and massaging his neck.

"Blimey, mate, you scared me," Calvin said angrily. "Keep that stripey monster away from me!"

"What's wrong with you, Calvin?" Manny asked, concerned about his friend's strange behavior. "What happened in there? What did you see?"

Calvin was still looking at Hobbes doubtfully. "That big cat's tame, ain't he?" he said.

"Tame!" Hobbes sputtered indignantly. "I am not tame!"

"Blimey, it can speak!" Calvin said, aghast.

"Of course I can speak! Good heavens, what's wrong with you?" Hobbes said angrily. "As soon as you come back you start strangling me and you… you…" He stopped and Manny guessed he had noticed it too. "What's with your accent? Why are you talking like you're British?"

"Why? You got a problem with my accent, stripes?" Calvin said. "I've always been talking British."

"Since when?" Hobbes asked.

"Since forever, mate, and why do you care? Who the hell are you, if I may-" He stopped. Then he looked at Hobbes more closely. "Wait a minute, you're Hobbes, aren't ya?"

"Whee, now he remembers," Hobbes grumbled. "Give the boy a medal."

"And you are?" Calvin raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Manny.

"You have got to be kidding me," Manny said.

"Unfortunately not, chump," Calvin shrugged.

"I'm Manny," Manny said. "Your friend, Manny. I've known you for more than a year."

"Awfully short time to get acquainted with a many-layered bloke such as myself," Calvin said. "But anyways, nice to see you, Manny boy. Now if you excuse me, I need to take a leak."

He went to the door, opened it, and then paused.

"By the way, where's the bathroom?"

"Uh, down the hall," Manny said. "On your right."

"Thanks chump." And he left.

For a while silence filled the room, thick and tangible.

Finally Hobbes said, "What just happened?"

"I don't know," Manny said.

"All that- that… the strangling and- his British accent, and the way he talked to us- he didn't even recognize us!"

Manny sat down on the bed, thinking hard.

"He's changed," he muttered. "Somehow, this trip into his mind has altered his personality."

"But how?"

"I don't know," Manny groaned. "I hate it when I don't know something."

He stood up and began pacing the room.

"I knew we shouldn't have done this," Hobbes muttered. "All these inventions and experiments always lead to trouble. What now? Manny, how do we change him back? Manny?"

Manny had stopped at Calvin's desk and was looking at something with a deepening frown. Hobbes got up and joined him.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's the game boy," Manny said. "It's still showing the last transmitted footage of Calvin's neuropaths."

"So?"

"Look."

Hobbes looked at the screen. Ugh, the squiggly lines again. But he couldn't see what was wrong. It looked just the same. Or did it?

"The squiggly lines seemed to have shifted a little bit, I guess," Hobbes observed.

"A little bit?" Manny said. "Hobbes, they're completely different! The paths have been rearranged in a pattern which bears no resemblance at all with the original. But it's impossible! How could the neuropaths become so different? How did they change?"

"So? That just confirms for us that Calvin's personality has changed a bit."

Manny shook his head. "Hobbes, you don't understand."

"Enlighten me."

"These neuropaths represent everything you are. It's not just your personality or your behavior. Your memories, your attitude, your feelings, your emotions, your thinking, your entire history- the neuropaths present in every part of the brain, as a whole, sum up who you are. The fact that they are now completely different means that- it means…"

"Means what?" Hobbes asked.

Manny took a deep breath.

"It means that it's not just a few traits or quirks which have changed. This boy is a completely different person right to the core. Whoever he is, he is not Calvin."


	4. The Impostor Unmasked

"So who is he?"

"I don't know."

"Then what are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know."

"How do we get the real Calvin back?"

"I don't know."

"Are you telling me we'll have to manage with this weird new British Calvin for the rest of our lives?"

"I never made any such statement."

"But how did this happen? Just by letting Calvin take a small venture into his own mind? How could that small trip have scrambled his neuropaths?"

"I haven't the faintest idea."

"So then what will we do? Just wait and watch?"

"I don't know."

"You don't think he'll try to strangle me in my sleep, do you?"

"Well if that's what it would take to shut you up I'd gladly assist him."

"Hmph, aren't you comforting?"

"Could you just stay quiet for some time?"

"But what are we supposed to tell his parents? And everybody at his school?"

"I don't know."

"Isn't there any way to get Calvin back? There must be something we can do? Can't we-"

"For god's sake, Hobbes, how many times will I have to say this? _I- don't- know!_" Manny whispered angrily.

"Okay, okay… sheesh," Hobbes muttered.

He shifted and settled in a more comfortable position behind the bush they were using to hide.

Around a dozen feet away stood Calvin- or the new, strange Calvin. He was leaning against a tree and quietly observing the street and its surroundings.

"Why exactly are we hiding from him?" Hobbes asked.

Manny shrugged. "I don't know. I just don't like being around him. He's so weird and unpleasant. You know, with his thick British accent and the demeaning way he talks to us.

"And he calls me stripes," Hobbes muttered.

"Yes that too. Plus, he changed his hairstyle!"

"Ugh. Calvin would have hated that hair."

The British Calvin's hair was now sleek and neatly combed. The wild spiky-ness which so characterized the old Calvin was gone. It made them fully comprehend the fact that this was not the friend they knew.

"I still don't get one thing," Manny muttered, his brows furrowed the way they always were when he was deep in thought. "Why is he pretending to be Calvin?"

Hobbes looked at him.

"You know, all morning he's been trying to be like Calvin- the old Calvin- ever since he recognized you as Hobbes. Technically, since his memories and his personality are completely different, he shouldn't remember anything about the old Calvin. It's surprising he even remembered you. This all goes against my theory."

Hobbes nodded. "You're right. It's like he's some… some impostor."

He tilted his head as if an idea had come to him.

"You don't suppose…" he said slowly.

"What?" Manny asked.

"Well you see it all the time in comics and movies and TV," Hobbes said. "The ones where the main guy has an evil side inside him, an evil alter ego hidden deep in his mind who suddenly takes control."

Manny raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to say that…?"

"Yes."

"So that guy standing next to the tree could really be-"

"Yes."

Manny watched the new Calvin. The way he stood, the way he folded his arms and observed the world around him with narrowed eyes like a hawk waiting to strike- his very posture felt so different, so alien from the real Calvin.

A few days ago, he would've denounced Hobbes's theory as pure fiction. Today, however…

"You're sure about this, Hobbes?" he asked.

"It looks like the only explanation," Hobbes shrugged.

"Alright, then." Manny's jaw hardened. "Looks like there's only one way to find out."

* * *

><p>"Hey Calvin!"<p>

Calvin gave a start and looked around. He saw Hobbes walking up to him, grinning.

"Oh, hey stri-Hobbes," he nodded. "Err, how's it going, mate?"

"Oh, it's going great… mate," Hobbes said, still grinning.

For a few moments they just stood awkwardly, looking at each other. Then Hobbes cleared his throat and hurried on.

"So, let's go then."

"Err, where?" Calvin asked.

"You remember, Manny's place," Hobbes said.

"Who?"

"Manny. Your friend, Manny."

"Oh, that kid, right."

"We were planning to have a get together at his home today. You know, a small party."

"We were?"

"Yup, it was your idea."

"It was? Oh, right, sure it was." Calvin coughed. "Thing is Hobbes, I don't feel like going. I've got loads to do."

Hobbes folded his arms. "Like?"

"Well, you know, stand around and watch the sky and… the birds… and…."

"Sorry, buddy, you're coming." Hobbes grabbed Calvin's arm and began pulling him forward.

"Okay, okay, blimey, you don't have to pull me!" he grumbled. "I'm coming."

Muttering to himself, he fell in besides Hobbes and walked with him down the street. For a couple of minutes they said nothing, just walked.

Then Calvin asked, "So what are you gonna have at this get-together, eh?"

"Oh, um," Hobbes said. "All types of games and food. It'll be fun!"

"Honestly, it had better," Calvin muttered.

"Don't worry. You'll love it!" Hobbes grinned, giving him a friendly pat on the back. "It was your idea after all."

"Yes… my idea."

Soon they turned into Manny's street and were at his home. As they walked up the path, Calvin looked up at the house suspiciously.

"So who else is here?" he asked.

"Just you, me and good old Manny," Hobbes grinned. "Three old friends having fun, fun and fun!"

Calvin looked at him. "You seem a bit nervous."

"It's because of the anticipation for the fun we're going to have," Hobbes said, his grin becoming even more strained than it was before. "_Fun, fun and fun!_"

"Yes, you told me. Fun, fun and fun."

Hobbes pushed open the door and walked in.

"Hmm, entering somebody's home without ringing the doorbell," Calvin said. "Isn't that trespassing?"

"Don't worry, Manny's expecting us," Hobbes reassured him.

"Alright, never had a problem with breaking the rules before," Calvin shrugged and followed. "Heh, from where I come from, I would-" He stopped abruptly and shut his mouth.

Hobbes's eyes flicked sideways to look at Calvin. Then he shut the door and led the way up the stairs, showing no sign that he had heard him. They reached the landing and walked to where the attic's string was hanging. Hobbes pulled it and stepped back to let the ladder come down.

"It's up there, you say," Calvin said doubtfully, peering up. "Seems pretty dark and quiet for a place promising fun, fun and fun."

"Oh, just go up," Hobbes said encouragingly. "The fun is waiting right up there!"

"If you say so, stripes."

"Hobbes."

"Err, yeah, Hobbes."

Calvin started climbing up the ladder. He paused halfway and looked up, hesitating. The dark, square trapdoor looked foreboding and uninviting.

"Come on, move," Hobbes said and grabbed the lower rungs. "I'm coming up too. We're here, Manny!" he called loudly.

Calvin sighed and continued. "I hope this won't be as boring as it sounds," he muttered. "Bloody get together."

He reached the trap hole and, gripping the edges of the floor, hauled himself up.

"Okay, let's see what we go here." He stood up and looked around.

Dust, cobwebs, boxes, crates, piles of junk and a lonely table at the only uncluttered end of the room. That was what he saw.

"Bloody hell, you call this fun?" Calvin groaned. "Really Hobbes, this is more than disappoint-"

"GET HIM!"

With a cry, Manny rushed out from the junk piles and threw himself at Calvin.

Calvin instinctively settled into a defensive stance. His right hand came up, fist tight, ready to land a punch on Manny's chin.

Then Hobbes tackled him from behind, his arms wrapping tight around his stomach, sending him stumbling. Manny crashed into the duo and their combined weight drove Calvin down.

"_What- the-bloody-hell_!" Calvin swore, struggling under their bulk.

"Pin him down, Hobbes!" Manny cried.

"I got him!"

Grunting from exertion, Calvin bared his teeth in a grin. "_Now_ the fun begins," he said.

His muscles tensed and, in one flexible move, he twisted out of their grip. Before they even realized what happened, his leg lashed out and the heel of his shoe sank into the Manny's stomach, who fell back with a grunt.

Hobbes jumped at him again, snarling. Calvin fell back with the tiger's weight upon him. But he kicked up his legs, sending Hobbes flying right over him.

Calvin scrambled to his feet and dashed for the trapdoor.

But Manny's own foot lashed out this time and he tripped, crashing face down.

"Get the trapdoor, Hobbes!" Manny said, launching himself at Calvin and attempting to pin him down.

He saw Hobbes rush past them out of the corner of his eye but focused on Calvin, who was struggling with all the rage of a mad bull. He pulled his arm behind his back, twisting it as hard as he could.

"Gaack!" Calvin cried out in pain. "You're really asking for a sucker punch, mate!" he hissed.

"All I'm asking for is what you've done with my friend!" Manny growled, jamming his knee harder into Calvin's backbone.

With an almighty shove and a grunt, Calvin tossed Manny off of his back. He swung around and threw himself at him, hands outstretched, face contorted in a snarl.

The two boys rolled around on the floor, kicking, biting, scratching, both fighting with all the energy they could summon. But after a while, it wasn't hard to see who was having the upper hand.

"Hobbes, where are you?" Manny cried.

He had lost all sense of direction and his own whereabouts as he desperately focused on the fight.

"Uh, here."

"Help me!"

"You seem to be handling things pretty well."

"_You think?"_

"I do."

"_Do something, you dolt!"_

"Sheesh, you're sound more like Calvin than that guy is. If you say so."

The next moment- "DUCK!"

Manny instinctively launched himself away from Calvin, both to evade another jaw-cracking punch as well as in response to the warning.

A sharp-edged wooden photo frame came flying into the side of Calvin's head.

"OW!"Calvin staggered back, one hand clapped to his temple.

The frame was swiftly followed by block of wood and an old battery. One hit him square in the chest. The other struck the bridge of his nose.

"What the hell?" Calvin roared. He looked around wildly and his watering eyes focused on Hobbes standing in the middle of the trash piles, holding two more broken but heavy-looking objects he had picked up from his surroundings.

"Time to put this stuff to use, I say," Hobbes grinned evilly.

A multitude of broken implements, rusty tools, old toys, disused kitchen appliances, light bulbs, empty bottles and god knows what else was being hurled in quick succession at the poor Calvin.

He cried out, trying to fend off and dodge the lethal assault, but many of the objects met their mark.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU KEEP IN THIS PLACE?" he roared after both a sewing machine and a metal tool box still full of its contents knocked the air out of his lungs.

"Nice aiming, Hobbes," Manny commented, who had moved out of harm's way as quickly as he could.

"Why thank you, Manny," Hobbes said, still hurling object after object with grim efficiency. "I had a lot of practice playing baseball with Calvin- the real Calvin. I suppose we should also thank your parents for being such wasteful human beings."

"I suppose we should. You know," Manny said, smiling at the flailing figure of Calvin. "This is quite entertaining."

"I know, I could this all day," Hobbes grinned.

"No, you won't!" Calvin snarled.

His hand reached out and caught the next projectile- a cracked light bulb- and flung it back at Hobbes.

"EEK!" Hobbes ducked.

The bulb missed narrowly and smashed against the wall. But the minor distraction was all Calvin needed.

With a growl, he flung himself forward and charged at Hobbes who fumbled for the nearest object to throw. But he was too slow.

Calvin hit him with all the force of a charging bull, not stopping his until he had driven Hobbes all the way up against the wall. And then his hands were clawing at the tiger's throat- again.

"No!" Hobbes gasped. "Oh come on, that's not fair!"

He grasped at Calvin's hands, trying to push them away.

"This time I'm gonnna break every single bone in your neck!" Calvin snarled and there was something in his tone which told Hobbes that he meant it.

He struggled with all his might but the hands drew closer and closer to his pale, exposed throat.

He remembered their cold, heartless grip, how he had choked with those same hands throttling him. It struck him that, whoever this person was, those hands still belonged to his own best friend- and now they were going to kill him.

THUD!

A resounding dull crack cut the air. Calvin stiffened, his snarl of rage still frozen on his face. Then he collapsed.

Behind him stood Manny, holding a dusty, enormous tome: his mother's old medical textbook.

"Calvin was right," he said with a grim smile. "This is like an assault weapon." He tossed the book away. "Man, what a day."

"Fun, fun, fun," Hobbes muttered, feeling his throat tenderly. Never had it felt so exposed. "Thanks for that, Manny."

"Always a pleasure. Now let's tie this little fellow up. I found some rope in the trash piles. It's still reasonably strong."

Hobbes dragged Calvin unceremoniously to the table while Manny fetched the rope. With practiced hands, he first tied Calvin's legs, then his hands, and finally, his neck to the attic table. Each time he finished with a neat knot.

"I never knew you could tie knots," Hobbes said.

"Read how to do it from a book," Manny said, inspecting the tightness of the rope. "It's amazing how much you can learn from books." He got up. "Right, I think it's time to find out who our little British chap really is."

"And what happened to the real Calvin," Hobbes agreed.

They stood there grimly, like executioners waiting to take the prisoner to the gallows, or a judge ready to pronounce his sentence, waiting for their quarry to wake.

Five minutes passed.

Then ten.

Then another five minutes.

"He's not going to wake up anytime soon, is he?" Hobbes said at last.

"Must've hit him a bit too hard," Manny muttered. "I hope he didn't suffer a concussion."

Manny went down to get a glass of water. When he came back up he wasted no time and splashed the glass's contents full in Calvin's face.

He finally stirred and a groan escaped his lips.

"Hello, nice to see you're awake," Hobbes said.

"What the bloody…" Calvin muttered, his eyes squinting, unfocused.

They finally centered on the boy and tiger standing in front him.

"You!" he said angrily and tried to move but the ropes held him. "How did you tie me up? I was- Ah, that bloody kid must've sneaked up behind my back. That's cheating, mate!"

"We're not here to talk about that, _mate_," Manny said, folding his arms. "We're here to ask you some questions."

"Yes," Hobbes said in as grim a voice as he could manage, also folding his arms. "We're here to ask you some questions."

"Such as?" Calvin said.

"What did you with Calvin?" The words came as quick as a gunshot. "The real Calvin."

"Yeah," Hobbes nodded vigorously. "What did you do with the real Calvin?"

"And who are you?" Manny added.

"Exactly, who are you?"

"And what if I say that I am the real Calvin?" Calvin said, narrowing his eyes.

"Heh, you think we're going to believe that?" Manny said.

"Yeah, you think we're really gonna believe that?" Hobbes scoffed.

"And why can you not?"

"I can name more than a dozen reasons," Manny said.

"Yeah, more than a dozen," Hobbes said.

"In fact, if I gave the entire list right now, we'd be old men by the time I'm done."

"Indeed, we'd be old men by the time he's done," Hobbes nodded.

Manny looked at Hobbes. "Hobbes," he said.

"Yes, Manfred."

"If you don't have any original contributions to make to the conversation then can you please shut up?"

"Oh, okay. Sorry."

"Right, then," Manny turned back to Calvin. "Where were we? Something about you not being Calvin, I believe."

"What makes you think I'm not Calvin?" Calvin challenged.

"Like I said, the reasons are endless."

"Name a few."

"Well, let's see," Manny said.

"The way you've combed and oiled your hair," Hobbes said. "Calvin never ever uses a comb and he absolutely abhors hair oil."

"An original contribution at last," Manny nodded. "And how you did not recognize us when you first woke up after your experiment."

"And your British accent. Calvin could never do a British accent."

"The way you fought us. You were fighting with skill, which I don't recall Calvin ever having in areas of self defense."

"Yeah, or he wouldn't have to pay up to Moe everyday to avoid having his head smashed into the wall."

"And the small detail of you having to ask your way around your own house even though you've lived almost your entire life there."

"The fact that you refused to watch T.V when I asked you in the morning even though your favorite program was on."

"Good one, Hobbes. Calvin never compromises on his TV habits."

"Also, how you ate the vegetable broth your mom cooked for lunch even though you absolutely detest vegetables."

"And, to name one more, how you didn't-"

"Alright, alright!" Calvin groaned. "Blimey, so I just changed a bit."

"A bit?" Hobbes said angrily. "A bit! Whoever you are, bud, you are not my friend! And I want to know what you've done with him! I want Calvin back!"

For a while, there was silence. Complete silence. Hobbes and Manny said nothing and watched the boy who sat in front of them, the boy who claimed to be their best friend.

He was still and his eyes were lowered, as if studying his fingers. But when he looked up, they were dark and hostile.

"You'll never get him back," he said quietly.

"Looks like we broke you at last," Manny said.

"You'll never get him back," he repeated. "He's gone. He's trapped. He's nothing more than a shadow, withering away."

Manny knelt down on one knee, studying the boy's face. It stared back, boring into his eyes. It took sheer willpower for him to not flinch from the cold vehemence with which he gazed at him.

"Who are you?" Manny asked.


	5. Another Daredevil Plan

"Who are you?" Manny asked.

The boy regarded him.

"I was once nothing but a shadow myself," he said. "I am a creation of Calvin's mind, a figment of his imagination. Something created for his own convenience to use as a plaything. Whenever he sought some escape from reality, whenever he sought some adventure, whenever he sought a taste of the other side of the law, he would don my identity." He paused and then added. "I am Calvin the Criminal."

"So he is like an alter ego," Hobbes said. "Ha, I thought so."

"Yes, just like his other identities," Manny nodded. "Tracer Bullet, Spaceman Spiff and that other guy with the cape-"

"Stupendous Man," Calvin the Criminal said bitterly. "Oh, I'm sure you've heard of them. The Big Three, the Wonder Trio- they're so famous in my world. I was but a small pawn in front of them: a lowly thief, a murderer, a man hiding on the street among countless others of his kind." And as he said that, his eyes hardened. "But no more. _No. More. _I was tired of that world, tired of being there, of being stuck in the same loops, knowing that I was nothing but thoughts and images, that, for all my skill and prowess as a criminal on the streets, I was just the result of the ramblings of a six year old.

"I wanted to break free. I wanted to escape from that prison, that never ending maelstrom of ideas and imagination where nothing was the same, nothing was constant, nothing was real. And I wanted to be here, in your world, the true world. Where everything is real. A place with real people, real places- a place where I can start my career as a criminal afresh, where I can-"

"Jeez, we get it," Hobbes groaned. "You wanted to be in the real world. Long story short. Period. Sheesh, he talks just as much as Calvin."

"Not hard to believe that Calvin created this guy. He's always had a taste of the other side of the law." Manny stood up. "So, when Calvin decided to pay a trip into his own mind you took your chance. You came back instead of him. Am I right Calvin the Criminal?"

"Really, mate, just call me Crim."

"Right then, Crim."

"Actually I'd been plotting for ages," Crim said. "You could call it a sort of revolution. I was revolting against Calvin's mind and slowly corrupting it from deep within. I was bending it to my will, changing it, turning it into my mind, not Calvin's. I was growing in power." He smiled, showing his obvious glee. "As each part of the mind was conquered and corrupted, I started spreading outwards. I wanted to claim the whole wide mind for myself. It would've taken quite long actually."

"But then Calvin stepped right into his own mind," Hobbes said.

"Exactly, stripes. And that made things easier and saved me loads of work. I managed to come right here, the real world, directly. I filled in the vacant spot that the little squirt left behind."

"And about that little squirt," Manny said. "What happened to Calvin?"

Crim's grin widened. "By the time Calvin went there, I had already converted more than half of his mind. It was my mind now. My place. My kingdom. And more than sufficient to trap Calvin."

"Trap him where?" Hobbes asked.

"In his own mind," Crim chuckled. "Ironic, ain't it, mate? Calvin is trapped deep within his own mind, buried beneath his own subconscious, slowly withering away."

"What do you mean withering away?" Manny asked sharply.

"I mean exactly what I said, kid. Withering away. His very essence is thinning, being ravaged by the raw power of the mindspace surrounding him. I told you, he's just a shadow now. But soon, he will be nothing. Gone. Like dust."

Once again silence reigned while Manny and Hobbes slowly digested all this information. Crim watched them with satisfaction, aware of the impact his words had made.

"Well," Hobbes said at last. "This has been a pretty eventful morning."

Crim nodded. "I bet it has."

"And all this information is a lot to take in at once."

"I'm sure it is."

"And if I were to try to sum it up in a single sentence…"

"Please do."

"To put it succinctly, Calvin is trapped deep within the folds of his own subconscious."

"Exactly."

"While you are here in his place ready to unleash a criminal wave upon the world."

"I know. Isn't it great?"

"Imagine Calvin's parents having to write that down for his absentee notice," Hobbes said to Manny. He mimicked writing in mid-air. "'Dear ma'am, please excuse the absence of my child from school as he is currently trapped within the folds of his subconscious.' I wonder what their reaction would be."

"Not much better than ours, I'm guessing," Manny said.

He turned to Crim. "How do we get him back?"

"You can't," Crim said simply.

"Just tell me."

"You can't. It's too late. He's as good as dead."

"You're no help at all," Manny muttered and turned away. His eyes were shut and his brows furrowed, the way they always were when he was thinking hard.

"One more question," Hobbes said.

"Yeah, stripes," Crim said.

"Why are you British?"

"Eh?"

"Why are you British?"

"What're you on about? I've always been British."

"Yes, but why?" Hobbes said. "When Calvin created you why did he make you British?"

Crim didn't have any idea what to say. "Err, maybe 'cause the British have got style and class."

"Right, that must be it," Hobbes rolled his eyes.

"Hobbes," Manny said.

"Yes, Manny," Hobbes turned to Manny.

"Come with me." Manny's voice was firm and steady like he had just made a decision. He strode off towards the junk piles.

"Um, sure," Hobbes shrugged and followed.

"Hey!" Crim said. "What about me, mate? You can't leave just leave me here!"

"I think I can," Hobbes retorted and continued walking.

Crim glared after him and muttered something under his breath.

Manny and Hobbes crossed through the junk piles, picking their way over the trash, until they reached the other end of that attic. Manny went to a corner and pulled a familiar cardboard box with a helmet, a game boy and a glass of pills in it from under the trash.

"Why did you bring that here?" Hobbes said in alarm, taking a step back as if the box was contagious.

"I thought we might need it," Manny said.

"Need it? That's the cause of the whole problem in the first place! Stupid Mind Traveler!"

"Hobbes, listen to me. Let's be rational-"

Hobbes scoffed. "My best friend built a machine to send him into his own mind so he could find a cereal coupon and is now currently trapped there while an evil alter ego of his is in charge of his body. Tell me how any of this is rational?"

"Let's just think, okay. I might have a plan. A plan to get Calvin back."

"Oh goody, one more ridiculously dangerous, daredevil plan to get us into more trouble," Hobbes said grumpily. "I just can't wait."

Manny stared at the tiger. "Are you always like this whenever Calvin and you get into some weird adventure?"

"More or less," Hobbes shrugged. "So what is this plan?"

"Right, so just think, this box, the Mind Traveller," Manny gestured at the box. "Calvin made it specifically for a person to be transported into his own mind, which is a bit dangerous, going into your own mind, because no one knows what effect that would have. You, the conscious, being inside your conscious."

"Something only Calvin could've thought of," Hobbes agreed.

"Yes, but what if we could modify the machine, reset it so that it could serve another similar but simpler purpose."

"Which is?"

"To send a person into somebody else's mind," Manny said.

Hobbes said nothing.

"Just think. Calvin is trapped there in his mind. There's nothing we can do in the real world. Nothing at all. And we don't want be stuck with Crim forever. So what if we use the Mind Traveler to send one of us into Calvin's mind? Then we can find him, wherever he is, and bring him back. Then we can send Crim back to the mind, back to where he came from and Calvin will be back with us in the real world! And the problem will be solved!"

Hobbes continued staring at Manny.

The grin of excitement slid off the boy's face like melted cheese.

"I sound just like Calvin," he said with horror.

"I think you were doomed from the day you befriended him," Hobbes sighed.

On the other side of the attic, Crim was fuming. He could hear the stupid kid and the tiger talking- chatting away nonchalantly while he fidgeted uncomfortably in ropes. This was not what he had come here for.

Crim struggled, trying to twist his hands out of their bonds. But all he did was chafe his wrists raw. He gave up, swearing under his breath and wincing at the pain. He let his gaze rove over the floor. Many of the old, useless objects which the tiger had used to hit him were lying strewn about.

That bloody tiger! He and his friend. They just had to come in his way! And now they were having a nice chat while he was stuck here tied up! Blimey, if he could get his hands around that stripey's neck just one more time then- Crim jerked up. His eyes narrowed, looking at something lying not too far away from him, among the rest of the trash.

An old kitchen knife.

"What else can we do Hobbes?" Manny groaned. "We need to get Calvin out of there."

"It's his mind. He should know the way around," Hobbes retorted.

"You heard Crim. It's not his mind anymore. It's been poisoned against him. Most of it, anyway."

"His problem," Hobbes muttered.

"Yeah and he's our friend," Manny said. "We've got to help him."

"Not like this!" Hobbes said stubbornly. "I'm not going along with a crackpot plan like this! It's mad!"

"Hobbes, we have no choice," Manny said. "There is nothing else we can do."

"We could leave Calvin to rot in there," Hobbes grumbled.

"Hobbes, he's your best friend. We have to help him."

"It's his fault he's in this mess. Nobody told him to take a small trip through his mind in the hope of finding a dumb cereal coupon code!"

"Yes, I know, and I'm no happier than you are. Really, I'm not. But we have no choice but to help him. And this seems to be the only way."

_"No means no!"_

"Hobbes, come on. We're going to have to do something. And if you don't want to, I'll do this on my own. So I'm asking for the last time. Will you help me?"

Hobbes stared glumly at the floor. Manny waited silently.

"Alright," Hobbes muttered. "What do we have to do?"

Manny nodded.

"Well, I already had this idea a while back," he said. "I was trying to make the modifications to the box when you came here with our little criminal friend. I think I've just about got it. Just one or two more things to do."

"Exactly how can you modify a corrugated cardboard box when the only tool you have is a black marker pen?" Hobbes inquired.

"Believe me, I'm still not sure how I did it," Manny said. "I wish Calvin's inventions were more sophisticated."

"So now what?"

"We'll need to get some things from downstairs, including a glass of water for the pills."

"Lead the way, then, Manfred. Lead us on this path to destruction and ruin."

"Aren't you morbid today," Manny muttered.

They stood up and made their way across the junk piles, careful to keep physical contact with the taller stacks to a minimum in case one of them toppled over.

Hobbes frowned as he followed Manny. His mind was flooded with doubts. This was exactly the kind of plan Calvin would cook up, however well-intentioned it was (though usually it was not). Heavens, there were so many things that could go wrong, so many unknown possibilities. Who knows what monstrosities were lurking in the depths of a mind like Calvin's?

Hobbes recalled what he and Manny had seen on the game boy screen: those twisting folds of darkness interspersed with dim coils of purple light. A chill went down his spine.

Why did this kind of stuff always happen to him? Why couldn't he have a normal life like any other tiger? Hobbes cursed the luck of those lucky felines who didn't have to bear the burden of friendship with a hyperactive, over imaginative, mentally unsound six-year old child.

"What are you doing?" Manny's voice broke into Hobbes's thoughts.

He looked ahead. Crim appeared to be trying to struggle out of his bonds. He froze and quickly settled down, glowering at the little boy and tiger behind him.

"Those knots are too tight for anyone to get out of them, even for an experienced criminal like you," said Manny.

"Yeah, I think I found that out," Crim muttered. "Honestly, can't you just loosen the ropes a bit? My wrists are aching."

"Sorry, mate, I've got some work to do," Manny said then added curtly, "Watch him, Hobbes. I'll be downstairs for a minute."

He opened the trap door and climbed down, his brown curly hair disappearing from sight. Hobbes shot Crim a withering glance and then sat down, still glaring at him balefully.

Crim returned the stare coolly, but inside he was feeling relieved. Behind him, his hands were holding the kitchen knife, which he had used to saw almost halfway through their ropes. Just a little more time and he would've been free.

"Why so glum, stripes?" he asked tauntingly.

Hobbes sniffed. "Maybe it's the sight of your over bloated face."

"It's Calvin's face."

"You're not Calvin," Hobbes growled.

"No," Crim grinned. "But this face is. So are the hands which tried to crush your thin neck."

Hobbes's hand involuntarily moved towards his neck but he stopped it.

Crim smirked. "Think of it, Hobbo. Calvin created me. He made me from himself. I am part of him, a facet of his personality. In a way, I am him."

"No you're not," Hobbes growled.

"Why?"

"You're not," he repeated stubbornly.

"Because?"

"You're not."

"And the reason for that is?"

"_You're not."_

"You've reduced my logic to shambles."

Hobbes grunted and turned his back towards Crim. Crim waited for a few moments. Then, slowly and silently, he began sawing the cords again. He could he feel the rope start to give away, thread by thread. But it was still frustratingly slow.

And his mood wasn't improved when Manny came back just as he was getting close to freeing his hands. The kid shot a wary glance at him, and then turned to Hobbes.

"I think it's all ready," he said.

"We're gonna do it?" Hobbes asked.

"Do what?" Crim asked.

Manny nodded, ignoring him. "No point in delaying."

"I could name a dozen such points," Hobbes muttered.

"What's going on? What are you going to do?" Crim watched the duo warily.

"Did you get the water for the pills for little Crimster here?" Hobbes gestured at Crim.

"What pills?" Crim asked. "What are you going to do to me?"

Manny set a little bottle of water on top of a nearby crate but then said, "Actually, I've got something better."

And from his pocket, he withdrew a large needle, its tip glinting ominously in the sunlight coming through the window.

"Where did you get a syringe from?" Hobbes asked, taking a step back in slight alarm from the deadly-looking medical instrument.

"Well, my mom leaves some of her equipment at home," Manny shrugged. "I thought we could use this."

"Use it for what?" Crim's voice was little more high-pitched than usual. The sight of the long, sharp needle seemed to make him queasy.

Manny walked towards Crim, carrying the syringe.

"Don't worry, Crim, this won't hurt at all," he said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. But inwardly, he couldn't help but feel some satisfaction at Crim's obvious nervousness. His body still hurt where the impostor had pounded him over and over again. "It's like a bee sting."

"Bee stings hurt," Hobbes said. "A lot."

"You're not helping, Hobbes."

"Oi! Get that thing away from me!" Crim yelled, fidgeting away.

Manny kneeled next to him and grabbed his forearm, pulling it from behind his back so that he could see it.

"Ack! You're twisting it!"

"Stop squirming! You don't want me to stick this thing in the wrong place, do you?"

And without further ado, he pricked the skin near Crim's wrist with the needle and pressed the plunger.

Crim winced at the sudden sting. Then he slumped over, his eyes rolling upwards.

"There," Manny said, taking a shaky breath. "Glad that worked."

He kept the needle on the table, stood up, and found Hobbes staring at him.

"What?"

"Does your mom know you fool around with hypodermic syringes?" he asked.

"I wasn't fooling around," Manny said defensively. "I knew how to use a syringe. It's easy. Simple."

"You didn't seem so confident when you were sticking that needle up Crim's arm," Hobbes said.

"What makes you say that?"

"Your hands are still shaking," Hobbes pointed.

Manny looked down at his hands and quickly shoved them into his pockets.

"So this may have been the first time I used a hypodermic needle on a live subject."

"Live subject?"

"Well, yeah, I did try it once or twice on my teddy bear when I was, uh, two or three."

Hobbes stared at him. "You are one weird kid."

It was actually a good thing for Crim that Manny had felt nervous. If he hadn't been concentrating on the needle so much, he might have noticed the small knife lying only inches away from his hands and how their ropes seemed a bit loose.

"Once, dad caught me with at it," Manny said, his face reddening slightly. "First gave me one heck of a lecture, then went and shouted at mom for leaving all her medical junk around, then came back and threatened to feed me to the neighbor's dog if I touched the needle again."

"Talk about parenting issues."

"I think it had been a rough day for him at work."

"But why couldn't we just use the pills and the water?"

"Well for one," Manny said. "I'd like to see you force a glass of water down his throat. Also, we need the pills for the other guy."

"What other guy?"

"The person who will be going inside Calvin's mind," said Manny.

"Oh good, and who's this brave little fellow?" Hobbes looked around expectantly as if waiting for a volunteer to leap out from behind a crate.

Manny coughed conspicuously, looking at Hobbes.

Comprehension dawned on Hobbes's face, along with horror.

"No," he said. "No, no, no."

"I'm sorry Hobbes but our choices are a bit limited," Manny said.

"Why can't you go? Why me?" Hobbes protested.

"I'm the only one who can manage the controls of the Mind Traveler. So that leaves you."

"You can teach me how to use the box! Teach me!"

"What? And have you wreak the whole plan," Manny rolled his eyes. "Calvin told me what happened when he let you take control of the Time Machine once."

"So we ended up in the middle of the Big Bang. Big deal!" Hobbes threw his hands up emphatically. "But I am not going in the there, Manfred! You hear me. Never!"

"Hobbes, you're the only one who can."

"But who knows what horrors are hiding in that big, fat cranium?"

"Nobody knows better than you."

"Oh yes, that helps!"

"Don't tell me we're going to have to go through another argument again!" Manny groaned.

"I'm ready to go through a hundred, buster!" Hobbes growled.

Manny sighed with an air of finality. "Five cans of tuna."

"Eh?"

"When we get through this, I'll buy you five cans of tuna."

"Really?" Hobbes said.

"Take it or leave it."

"That does depend on whether we do get through th-"

"Seven cans. Seven cans of tuna."

Hobbes stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Still, I don't think-"

"_Ten cans of tuna_," Manny said slowly. He could see the tiger's resolve begin to fail.

"But what if I-"

"Twelve. Cans. Of. _Tuna." _Manny let the last word slip slowly from his tongue.

Hobbes glared at him. "Boy, do you know me."

"Is that an acceptance?"

Hobbes took a deep breath. "Yes."

"Alright, then. Let's get started."

Manny hurried past Hobbes to where the Mind Traveler was being kept.

"I feel like I just pronounced my own death sentence," Hobbes said weakly.

Manny was dragging the box through the junk, kicking stuff out of the way. He was all business now. He dragged the box to open space and then went back and began quickly digging through the junk, tossing trash left and right.

"Right, got it," he said, pulling out a battered baseball helmet.

He stuck his hand inside the pile again, going all the way up to his shoulder, and then pulled out a pair of twisted wires. "Bit flimsy," he muttered. "But it'll have to do."

He moved back to the box and got to work, first connecting the wires to the box and then to the metal guard attached to the front of the helmet.

"You'll be wearing this, Hobbes," he said.

"Yay," Hobbes muttered in a voice that was devoid of any enthusiasm.

"A bit crude, I guess, but we'll have to make do. And also we have this." He pulled something out of his pocket. It was a small digital wristwatch. "See Hobbes, you were wondering earlier how Calvin would get out and we don't want the same problem again. So I added a timer to the Mind Traveler. That way, you'll be in there only during the specified time limit. As soon as the time is up, you'll be pulled out automatically."

"How do you know the timer will work?" Hobbes asked, staring at the watch dubiously.

Manny sighed. "I'm sure it will."

"How sure?"

"Trust me, Hobbes. It will."

Hobbes crossed his arms grumpily. "That's easy for you to say. You're not the one who has to go in there. How long is the time limit?"

"I wasn't sure how long I should keep it. Not too long but not too short either. So I estimated ten hours."

"Ten hours of pure horror and danger. It's what I've always wanted."

"Can you stop being so pessimistic?" Manny glared at the tiger.

"Some would call it being realistic."

"Come on, Hobbes, be brave. You're a tiger. What would a tiger do if he was being charged down by a wild rhino? Eh?"

"Scramble up the nearest tree like maniacs."

Manny stared at him.

"I know it doesn't it doesn't impress the girls," Hobbes said defensively. "But there's no point impressing them and then getting killed, as my dad would say."

"Words of wisdom, indeed," Manny sighed. "It'll be ten hours here, but in Calvin's mind, I guess time will be immaterial and out of sync with the reality. So for you, it might seem like days or even weeks."

"It's just keeps getting better," Hobbes muttered.

Manny ignored him and set the timer on his watch to ten hours. Then he looked at Hobbes and took a deep breath.

"Right, everything's ready, then."

Hobbes gulped. "No point in delaying, I guess."

"Nope."

"Alright, then."

"Yup."

"Let's do it."

"Time to see if this plan works."

"Whenever you're ready."

"Sure."

"Okay."

"Right."

"Yeah."

For a few moments there was a tense silence while every possible and impossible flaw in their so-called plan filled the Manny and Hobbes' heads, magnified by their fear and uncertainty. Then, before either of them could change their mind, Manny stepped forward with the helmet in his hands and fitted it tightly over Hobbes's head.

"How do I look?" Hobbes muffled voice came from inside the helmet.

"Simply dashing."

"Thank you. It's always been considered for one to look his best at his funeral."

"Your snide comments aren't helping," Manny muttered as he picked up the other helmet and jammed it on the Crim's head, which was lolling at an awkward angle.

He picked up the glass, dropped two pills in it, and filled it with water from the bottle, watching the pills dissolve into nothing.

"This is it, Hobbes," Manny said, feeling a nervous tingling in the pit of his stomach. "It's now or never."

"How about never? Never sounds good."

Manny said nothing. He just held out the glass to Hobbes.

Hobbes hesitated. Then, with an air of one who has accepted the inevitable, he took the glass, seating himself on the floor.

"We'll have to time the pills with the activation of the machine," Manny said.

Hobbes nodded.

Manny went to the box, found the starting knob, and steadied his finger on it.

"Here we go," he said. "For Calvin."

"And tuna," Hobbes added.

"For our best buddy."

"And tuna."

"For the weirdest yet the most wonderful friend in the world."

"Don't forget the tuna."

"Shut up."

There was one last moment of hesitation, during which their eyes met, each seeing his fear reflected in the other's gaze.

"If I come back, I had better get that tuna, Manfred," Hobbes said.

"Don't worry. You will."

Hobbes nodded. Then without further ado, he drained the glass of water in one gulp. Manny twisted the knob.

The glass had already fallen out of Hobbes's hand and he slumped over, hitting the floor with a thud. A sluggish feeling was rapidly spreading across his body. He heard, as if from far away, the harsh buzzing of the Mind Traveler and a faint crackle of electricity.

_Good heavens_, the tiger thought weakly as the last of his conscience slipped away. _What have I done?_

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN:-_**_ I'm sorry if this was a bit late. I got a bit busy as I'm sure we all do sometimes. And now, as we stand on the threshold of suspense and adventure, I would really appreciate it if you could just give a comment and tell me how I'm doing. How is the story? Is it paced well? What do you think of the plot? What do you think is wrong in the story? Where do I need to improve? Do you like it overall?_

_I would really like to know how I'm doing._


	6. War and Bullet

Smoke.

That was the first thing Hobbes noticed: The smell of smoke which filled his nostrils, thick and pungent. Then he felt rough ground beneath him, stalks of grass digging into his fur. His ears picked up no sound. He was surrounded by a deathly silence.

Hobbes opened his eyes.

He sat up, coughing. The sky above him was grey and bleak. And he was lying on an uncomfortable bed of shrubs and dry grass.

His first feeling was one of relief. He thought he would be surrounded by that weird moving blackness like Calvin. But then he became a bit apprehensive. Where was he? What the heck was this place?

Hobbes stood up and looked around. Behind him the land was just a long stretch of grass, curving downwards. Ahead of him, it rose up, sloping towards a gentle peak. Beyond that, all he could see were thin trails of smoke in the distance, curling towards the sky.

"Everything seems fine right now," he said to himself nervously. "Nice grassy hill. All quiet and peaceful. I like it. No indication of anything remotely dangerous."

Which was when he heard a siren suddenly blare from somewhere nearby, rising to a high-pitched whine which grated Hobbes's ears.

Maybe he had spoken to soon.

Other sounds soon followed. Shouts and cries. They all seemed to be coming from the general direction of the hill.

What was going on?

Trying to ignore the feeling of foreboding in the back of his mind, Hobbes crept up the slope, moving on all fours. He had just reached the top when the first burst of gunfire rent the air. And then he was at the lip of the hill, looking down at the source of all the commotion.

"You have got to be kidding me," he said, gaping.

Hobbes had seen pictures of World War II a long time ago. But though they had been indistinct and blurred, the sight he beheld now brought the memory of them back with sickening clarity.

He was staring at a battlefield. Upon which a battle was currently being waged.

Flashes of gunfire littered the bare, scorched land, accompanied with a cacophony of sound. He could make out figures sprinting across the field. Here and there, with a thunderous boom, large patches of ground went up in a cloud of smoke, tossing the soldiers near them like rag dolls. And tanks, actual, giant tanks, lumbered across the field, their muzzle flashing as they took aim and fired.

And before the poor tiger could register and take all of this in, a voice behind him spoke in a threatening tone, "Don't move! Put your hands up where I can see them!"

Hobbes shut his eyes._ Why had he come here?_

Raising his hands, he turned around slowly.

"Calvin!" he exclaimed. "Calvin! It's you!"

The spiky-haired six-year old was standing before Hobbes. But instead of his usual red and black attire, he was wearing an army uniform, all green and muddy, accompanied with a brown helmet. And he was holding a gun, an actual real gun, in his hands which was aimed at Hobbes.

Calvin studied him warily. "Who are you?" he said. "Identify yourself!"

"It's me!" Hobbes said, grinning with relief. "It's Hobbes."

Calvin's face was uncomprehending. Then he blanched.

"Oh god, it's you," he said.

"Um, yeah, me," Hobbes said. "Glad to know you're so happy to see me but-"

Another person came into view behind Calvin and Hobbes's words got stuck in his throat.

The person was the same height as Calvin. He also had the army attire. Not to mention the same spiky hair, the same face, the same eyes- they were both completely identical. They were both Calvin.

"Who is this?" the other one said. "He doesn't appear to be armed."

"It's him," said the first. "It's Hobbes."

The second Calvin's jaw dropped. "It can't be," he gasped. "The actual Hobbes? The real Hobbes?"

"Uh, last time I checked," Hobbes said in a small voice.

"What's he doing here?" he asked.

"This isn't the time to talk," the first one said and gestured at Hobbes. "You! Follow us. Now!"

And he turned and marched back down the hill. The other Calvin hesitated, looking warily at Hobbes before following.

Hobbes stood rooted to the spot, completely flabbergasted.

"Come on!"

He stirred himself.

"Uh, okay," he mumbled and hurried after them.

He followed to the two Calvin look-alikes down the hill and into a trench that had been dug at its base. The trench curved round the battlefield, leading behind it. After a long time crawling through the mud and dirt they emerged out of the trench and into a war camp.

A war camp full of Calvins.

Calvins dressed as soldiers. Calvins with guns. Calvins hurrying to and fro, calling to each other, shouting, casting nervous glances in the direction of the battle, from which the sounds of guns could still be heard. Whole phalanxes of Calvins, marching past the tents with a discipline Hobbes had never witnessed in the six-year old.

"Good heavens," Hobbes murmured, feeling weak in the knees.

One Calvin had been more than enough. He was staring at hundreds.

"Come on, keep pace!" the first Calvin said.

Hobbes had slowed down, staring blankly at the activity around them. He now quickened his pace, still feeling numb. They weaved through to the hustle and bustle, Hobbes just barely keeping up with other two. Finally, they cut through a lane of tents to emerge in a front of another tent, bigger and wider than the other ones. Two other Calvin-soldiers were standing guard at its entrance.

"We need to see the general," the first Calvin said. "It's highly urgent."

"He is busy at the moment," one of the guards said. "State your purpose."

"Look for yourself." He pointed at Hobbes.

The guards scrutinized the tiger, who stood there meekly, unsure of what to do.

"But that looks like..." one said. His eyes widened. "No…"

"It can't be," the other said.

"It is," the first Calvin said.

"If he came here of his own accord, then the things must be worse than we thought," said the second Calvin.

One of the guards hurried inside. Hobbes heard him speak in an low, hurried tone. Then he was back and beckoning them inside.

The two Calvins and Hobbes entered the tent. It was lit inside by oil lamps. A number of desks and small tables were set near the edges of the tent. They were piled with files and maps.

Near the center, a small group of Calvins stood at a longer table on which a map was laid out. They were obviously seniors and seemed to have been in deep conversation when they entered.

One Calvin, standing at the head of the table, seemed to stand taller than the rest. He wore a green cap and three stars pinned to his lapel. Looking at his assured air of authority, Hobbes was suddenly reminded of Calvin smugly wearing his newspaper hat as Supreme Dictatorship-for-life during their G.R.O.S.S meetings.

"General," the first Calvin said. "I apologize for disturbing."

"This had better be urgent, Sergeant, or else I'll have you demoted back to a lowly trooper," the general Calvin growled.

The first Calvin flushed.

The second stepped forward and spoke, "It's Hobbes."

"Hobbes?"

"We found him near the sidelines of the battlefield. _The_ Hobbes, General. The real Hobbes."

All eyes turned on Hobbes. There were gasps and sharp intakes of breath. All Hobbes could see were shocked faces.

"I don't seem to be very popular here," he muttered, studying his claws.

"Why is here?" the general said sharply.

"We don't know," said the first Calvin.

"Then ask him you blithering idiot!"

He flinched. "Oh, sorry, sir. Right away sir." He turned to Hobbes. "Um, why are you here?"

"I… I came to find Calvin," Hobbes said. "He's supposed to be trapped down here somewhere."

Each face in the tent looked at Hobbes in horror, thunderstruck.

"General," one gasped. "The rumors- they're true!"

"Quiet!" the general snapped hoarsely. "We shall not speak of this here."

"Was it something I said?' Hobbes asked the Calvin next to him.

"You two!" the general pointed to the first and second Calvin. "Take him to headquarters! Find the three! They'll have to deal with this!" He paused to take a breath and added in a threatening whisper, "And if something happens to him I'll personally have you whipped until you're as raw as ripe tomatoes!"

"Yes, general," the two Calvins muttered, eyes downcast.

"_Then what are you waiting for? Move it!"_

They hastily backed out of the tent, the first Calvin pulling Hobbes after them.

"Come on, Hobbes!" first Calvin said.

This time, they were going at a run, dodging through soldiers and carts and leaping over stacks of ammo. Hobbes had to push a few of the Calvins out of his way to keep up, ignoring the angry cries behind him.

The sound of distant gunfire could still be heard. But it was nearly drowned out by the clamor around tiger. The clamor of voices. Of Calvin's voices! Hundreds of them everywhere!

Hobbes felt like clapping his hands over his ears. It was just too surreal for him to take in. He had been here for barely ten minutes and already this place was starting to drive him mad!

"Whoa! Hey, get to the side!" one of the Calvins passing by them said.

Hobbes looked around, saw dozens of Calvins hurrying off to the sides, clearing the path ahead. He followed his two escorts and moved off the dirt track. The ground was quivering beneath him and he could hear a faint rumbling sound.

At first, Hobbes wondered if it was his stomach. He did have only one sandwich in the morning. But the noise was steadily growing louder. Definitely not his stomach.

"What's going on?" Hobbes asked.

"They're sending out the cavalry," the first Calvin said. "The battle mustn't be going well."

"You mean horses?" Hobbes said quizzically. "A bunch of Calvins on horses. Ha, I'd like to see that- good heavens!"

The rumbling had reached its pitch and around the bend of the path appeared a charging battalion of triceratops! Real, live triceratops! Upon each sat a Calvin, holding the reins precariously and looking like he might bounce and fall off any second.

Hobbes pressed his back against the tent wall behind him as the herd of grim-looking trikes rushed past them, their powerful limbs kicking up a storm of dust. Half a minute passed before the herd diminished and the last few stragglers galloped after the stampede.

As the thundering receded, everyone started moving and resumed going about their business.

"Well, come on, then," the first Calvin said. "We have to hurry!"

The two started off at a jog again.

Hobbes stumbled after them.

"But those were- those were dinosaurs!" he gasped. "Those were actual triceratops!"

"What? You never saw a couple of young tommies riding prehistoric herbivores before?" the second Calvin said as if that was a common as taking a walk in a park.

Hobbes stared at him.

"No," he said. "Never."

"It must be a dull world where you come from."

"I thought it was weird enough until I came here."

"Right, over here, troops," the first Calvin called.

They had come near the edge of the camp. And barely a few metres away stood a neat line of-

"You have got to be kidding," Hobbes groaned.

"What?" the first Calvin asked quizzically. "It's a transport pod."

The trio walked up to one of the small, gleaming machines. Resting on three skinny metal stalks, it was completely round and saucer-shaped with a glass bubble set into its center. Hobbes could see two seats surrounded by an array of dials and buttons.

Hobbes mentally sighed. Guns, tanks, dinosaurs and transport pods- this was Calvin's mind alright.

"Completely safe, I assure you," second Calvin said.

"Looks a bit small for the three of us," Hobbes noted, staring at the pod doubtfully.

"Ah, it's nothing." First Calvin tapped a code into a keypad attached to the hull of the pod. A small light next to it blinked green and, with a hiss, the glass dome rose up.

Second Calvin scrambled up its surface and hopped inside. Hobbes came after him, moving unsurely. And when first Calvin followed suit his fears turned out to be right.

"I told you we'd get cramped," Hobbes growled. "Stop twitching! I can't stand this."

"He's got a point," second Calvin said. "My leg is completely jammed."

"We'll have to make do," first Calvin grunted. "Move over."

"Don't push!" Hobbes said.

"I have to set the coordinates!" he snapped.

There followed a bit of struggling and shoving until first Calvin managed to type in the coordinates and get the pod to start. The glass dome resealed itself, increasing the horrible sense of claustrophobia.

"Right," he said. "We'll just have to bear through this for a few minutes."

"It would be easier to bear if this guy's fur wasn't getting me all greasy," second Calvin grumbled.

"Don't you dare call my fur greasy," Hobbes said.

"Well, it is all hot and sweaty-OW! Something poked me!" first Calvin cried.

"Yeah, my claw did," Hobbes growled. "Any more comments about my fur?"

"Beware," second Calvin said. "This bozo is armed with a fearsome array of toothpicks."

A few moments of silence passed.

"Did you just call my claws toothpicks?" Hobbes asked in a dangerously low voice.

This was going to be a long trip.

* * *

><p>After what felt like hours, the transport pod landed and the dome opened. One by one, its poor crew crawled out, collapsing with groans of pain as they stretched their aching limbs.<p>

"That thing was never meant for three people!" Hobbes said, stretching his back.

"It was the fastest way to come," first Calvin groaned, cricking his neck.

They had landed in what looked like a parking area filled with an assortment of vehicles, both land and air. Ahead of them, looking completely out of place next to a parking lot, loomed a castle, dark and imposing.

"I'm guessing that's our destination," Hobbes said.

"Yup," second Calvin said. "Welcome to Headquarters. This is the central body for regulating the mind."

"Charmed."

In truth, Hobbes was a bit intimidated. He looked up at the many windows, empty and dark. It was an entire fortress, complete with turrets and ramparts. He could see torches glowing dimly on the castle walls. It added a spooky effect

_Calvin would have loved this place_, Hobbes thought. Then he chided himself. Of course he would. He made this place. This is probably his dream home.

They made their way to the open gates. As they passed under them, Hobbes couldn't help but glance nervously at the gleaming spikes of portcullis above their heads. They passed into a large, empty courtyard.

"Doesn't seem too busy," Hobbes said.

One of the Calvins shrugged. "Most of the people are elsewhere."

Crossing the stone pavement, they approached the main building and walked through the doors- straight into a gleaming, white lobby.

"Wha-?" Hobbes stopped.

The effect was disorientating. He looked behind him through the glass doors (funny, weren't they just made of wood) and saw the same gate and portcullis outside. He looked back.

He saw cream-colored walls, tube lights and plastic chairs. A Calvin dressed in a suit and tie (a rare sight indeed) sat behind the receptionist desk, scribbling away in a register.

"Wait here," first Calvin said and walked towards the desk, his footsteps echoing in the empty room.

Hobbes and the other Calvin sat down on a couple of nearby chairs and watched first Calvin talk to the receptionist Calvin in a low but hurried tone.

The receptionist's eyes widened and he glanced at where Hobbes was sitting. He nodded, picked up the receiver of a phone lying on the desk and dialed a number.

Hobbes looked around the empty lobby and noticed a number of screens, big and small, set high in the walls. One showed Calvin sitting in what looked like his school class, his face glum and bored. Another showed him and Hobbes in the wagon riding at a reckless pace down the dirt track in the woods. Yet another showed the six-year old playing Godzilla in the bathtub.

He realized the screens were showing scenes from Calvin's life. Was this what the workers watched in their spare time? They must be really desperate for entertainment.

He looked back to see first Calvin hurrying back to them. He and second Calvin stood up.

"We're lucky," first Calvin said. "One of them is here"

"One of who?" Hobbes asked

"Right then. Let's go," second Calvin said.

"We can't go further," first Calvin said. He turned to Hobbes. "This is where we leave you."

"Wait. What?"

"We're not allowed?" second Calvin asked.

First Calvin shook his head. "We've been told to go back to our duties at the war camp."

"And not a single thanks for escorting this guy, here," second Calvin muttered. "Typical."

"Escorting me where?"Hobbes said. "Why am I here? What's going on?"

"We're not the ones to give these answers."

"Then who is?"

First Calvin pointed at the receptionist, who was watching them inconspicuously (or so he thought). "He'll take you to him. We have to go. We've been gone too long."

"Take me to him? Who's him?" Hobbes said. He was feeling extremely nervous at the prospect of being left alone in this big, empty place.

"It was an honor, sir." First Calvin saluted. Second Calvin followed suit.

Then they moved past him and were through the doors before you could say tuna.

"See ya," second Calvin called just as the door swung shut.

Hobbes stood there.

"See ya?" he said disbelievingly. "See ya. That's all you're going to say? You're going to leave me here in this big, stupid castle all alone with no clue about what's going on and you still have the nerve to say _see ya!_ Why of all the blasted, rotten, stupid-"

"Ahem."

Hobbes ceased his tirade and turned to see the Calvin receptionist standing behind him.

"If you come with me, sir, I will escort you," he said.

Hobbes glared at him. "Oh, so now you're going to escort me, aren't you? How very nice. I feel so warm and fuzzy inside!"

The receptionist blinked. "Did- did I say something wrong, sir?"

"Oh no. Of course not!" Hobbes said. "Look at you all respectful and polite! But mark my words, you'll leave me too. You will! And you'll stay so disgustingly polite all the way to the end. And then you'll say 'see ya, sir', won't you? Won't you?"

"Uh, if that would please you, sir," said the poor, confused receptionist.

Hobbes glowered at him suspiciously.

The very idea of Calvin being this polite and courteous was nauseating.

"This place is driving me bonkers," he grumbled.

"I'm very sorry to hear that, sir. Now if you would follow me."

Hobbes muttered under his breath and followed the spiky-haired receptionist through the lobby. They went through another set of double doors into a gleaming hallway which seemed to go on forever. Though every five seconds they would past a turn or a door, the Calvin seemed to know where he was going, taking a few turns and leading Hobbes down a flight of stairs.

Hobbes wasn't sure how or when it happened, but when he looked up he saw cold, dark stone walls with torches burning in their brackets as if they had always been that way. He looked back the way they had come and saw the dank stone corridor stretching on for as far as his eye could see.

They came to end of the hall where there was an elevator with a grille instead of a door. The Calvin receptionist pulled the grille back and entered the lift with Hobbes. He closed the grille and, ignoring the wide array of buttons (some of which had names instead of a number, like Jungle Gym, Food Fight Pantries and Snow Arena), he pushed the button right at the bottom: A plain red one with no number.

"Where does that lead to?" Hobbes asked.

"The lowest levels, sir," the receptionist replied.

"Why's it red?"

"To warn us."

"Warn us about what?"

"To not go down there."

"Then why are we going down there?"

The Calvin receptionist sighed. "You'll see, sir."

"Oh joy."

Hobbes wasn't sure how long the ride had taken but to him, it felt like hours.

When the elevator's whirring stopped and the receptionist pulled back the grilles and stepped outside, he followed him hesitantly.

They were in another stone corridor. Unlike the others, this one had no other passages branching off it. No windows, no openings, not one crack could be seen on the walls. In the dull light of the torches, Hobbes saw a single door at the end of the hall.

"Right then," he muttered and started forward- then stopped when he noticed the receptionist was not following.

He looked back and saw him standing halfway through the grilles, looking hesitant, even fearful.

"Well, aren't you coming?" Hobbes asked.

A draft swept through the hall, sending chills down Hobbes's spine. The torches on the wall flickered.

The receptionist Calvin shivered. "Go on, sir," he said. "I must attend to my other duties."

"It's just a little walk," Hobbes said, pointing down the hall.

"I must go, sir. Duties and all."

"Duties? This place is completely empty?"

The draft blew again, gently, seeping into their very bones.

The receptionist flinched at its touch. He stepped back into the lift, his hand on the grille.

"Hey, wait! Don't leave me here," Hobbes protested. "It's just a bit of wind in… in an underground corridor with, um, no windows."

"Just go ahead, sir" the receptionist said. "I shouldn't be here."

"Should I?" Hobbes looked down the corridor nervously.

"You'll be alright, sir. You've been summoned here. By him."

"Who's him? I keep on hearing about him. Is he the person you're afraid of?"

"He? Of course not." The Calvin hesitated. "It's… it's below."

With that said, he pulled the grille shut.

"Goodbye, sir."

"Don't you dare say see ya," warned Hobbes.

"Of course not, sir."

"Good."

"I hope to see you soon."

Hobbes nodded- then stopped.

"Wait a minute, isn't that the same thing?"

But the elevator was already gone, its clanging fading away.

Hobbes glared at the dark space behind the grille. "Oh sure, leave me on my own again. I knew you would. You're all the same! All of you! You look the same, talk the same, sound the same- all of you Calvins out there! And not one of you is the Calvin I want! _And where is this breeze coming from?_"

The icy wind was blowing again.

"There's not even a single crack in these walls! I'm underground for Pete's sake!"

Hobbes stopped and sighed. Now he was talking to himself.

He glowered at the silent stone corridor. "I need to get out of here," he muttered and started walking.

Despite how long the corridor looked, Hobbes found himself standing in front of the door sooner than he would have wished. He hesitated, his hand hovering above the door knocker.

Another gust of icy wind swirled around Hobbes, whispering, as if beckoning him forward. The cold draft felt like the breath of the dead.

_Oh jeez, Hobbes, snap out of it_, he told himself.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked twice on the door.

With a soft snick, it opened a crack. Hobbes tentatively pushed it ajar.

"Come in," a voice said. It was deep and passive, but had a keen edge to it.

Hobbes pushed the door fully open. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dim light.

It was an office of sorts. The room was musty and unkempt. It smelled of cigarettes, alcohol and… was that gunpowder? Hobbes saw a desk, cluttered with papers, files and empty bottles. And behind the desk, sitting with his feet on the table and a cigar between his teeth, was another Calvin. He wore a brown overcoat and a wide-brimmed hat that shadowed most of his face.

Hobbes could tell at first glance that this one was different from the others. This Calvin seemed familiar. There was something about him.

"Well, you took your time," he said. "Have a seat, Hobbes. We have some talking to do."

Hobbes walked in, trying not to cough at the smell of cigarette smoke.

"You know me?" he asked as he sat down in the rickety chair in front of the desk.

"Oh I do, tiger, I do." Two keen eyes gazed intently at Hobbes from under the hat.

"But who are you?"

"You know me." He took his feet of the table and sat up.

"I- I don't think I… oh," Hobbes said as comprehension dawned. "It's you."

The private eye took a puff of his cigar and nodded.

"That's right, Hobbes. Welcome to Calvin's mind. My name is Tracer Bullet."


	7. A Debt to Repay

The sight Manny beheld was strange indeed. A kid and a tiger sprawled on the floor, both wearing sports helmets attached by wires to a cardboard box that had crude drawings of buttons and dials on one side. As weird as weird could get.

Man, what would his parents say if they came up here?

Manny looked at his watch. Two minutes had passed. Only two. It had felt much longer that. Might as well have been two hours.

He sighed and put his chin in his palm. Ten hours. Ten long hours.

How long would it actually take for Hobbes to get Calvin back, assuming that he does get him back? Calvin's parents would start to wonder where he he had gone.

Ten hours. That would be seven o'clock. Yup. His parents would definitely get worried if he would disappear all afternoon and evening. And the first person they'd ask would probably be Manny.

Lost in thought and forebodings, Manny glanced at Crim's – _Calvin's_- hair and suppressed the urge to go and give it a tousle. The very sight of it so neat and combed repulsed him, reminded him who was in that head right now.

He got to his feet. "Might as well get some more juice. I'll be back in a few minutes," he said loudly, clearing his throat.

His voice was answered by silence. Everything remained still, including the two figures on the floor.

Manny sighed. This was going to be a long wait.

He turned to leave when a flash of movement caught his eye. He looked back, his eyes turning to Crim. He lay as still a stone, his face set and impassive. All that moved was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Manny shrugged and left.

The two figures on the floor remained motionless, unmoving. Crim, his still face upturned towards the ceiling, Hobbes, his arms stretched out, his whiskers drooping. They could have been soundly asleep in bed.

Crim's hands lay curled behind him, bound loosely by the ropes. One outstretched finger still touched the surface of the handle of the knife, which lay barely an inch away.

The finger twitched.

* * *

><p>"Whiskey?" Bullet offered a flask.<p>

"Um, no thank you," Hobbes said.

He watched the detective take a long sip from it and then pocket it inside his coat.

"Cigarette?"

"No thank you."

"Suit yourself."

A few moments of silence passed, while Tracer gazed at the wall, puffing contentedly on his cigar.

"What?" he said, noticing Hobbes's look.

"Nothing," Hobbes said. "It's just a bit disconcerting watching a six year old drink whiskey and smoke cigarettes."

"Calvin is six. I'm not."

"You still look like a six year old, albeit one wearing a hat and long coat with a gun strapped to his waist."

"Are you telling me this is most disturbing thing you've seen in this place till now?"

"Maybe not as bad as a bunch of Calvins riding triceratops, but still."

"Trust me tiger, before the day's out, you're going to see a lot worse."

"Lucky me."

The private eye tool a long swig, then puffed it out, watching the smoke rings rise to the ceiling.

"Anyways, I believe we have more relevant topics to discuss about. I'm sure you have some questions to ask."

"You have no idea," said Hobbes

"Me too. Though I probably know the answer to this one, I'll ask you anyway," Bullet shrugged then said curtly, "Why are you here?"

"I'm here to find Calvin."

"So he's not in your place?"

"Nope. He supposed to be somewhere around here."

"I knew it," he sighed. "I felt it. We all did."

"What's going on?" Hobbes asked. "Out there, I mean?"

"Yes, I know. It's a bit busy, isn't it?"

"Busy? I saw dinosaurs and tanks! Yeah, busy day, huh? What's all the fighting about?"

"It's not that hard to guess, is it?" said Tracer Bullet.

Hobbes thought for a moment. "Crim," he said slowly. "That's Criminal Calvin's mind you're fighting. He told me he had been poisoning Calvin's mind, bending it to his will or something like that."

"So you've made an acquaintance with our devilish friend." Bullet said, leaning forward.

"Acquaintance would be putting it a bit too far," Hobbes muttered.

"He's in your world, then?"

"He's in Calvin's body. He's controlling his every limb."

Bullet's already shadowy face seemed to darken further. Moodily, he stubbed his cigar on the wood of his desk, ignoring the ugly black mark it left behind.

"This is very unfortunate," he muttered

"Tell me about it. My day was ruined."

"Things are worse than we suspected."

"And I had such plans."

"We're running out of time."

"I was going to make one more tuna sandwich, then I was going to take a nap in my favorite tree and after that I was hoping to-"

Bullet sat up. "Alright, listen, Bob-"

"Hobbes."

"Whatever," he waved his hand impatiently. "Our time is short so let's hurry up and get this over with. You must know a few details of what has transpired here but I'll fill you in to clear whatever doubts you may be harboring. Crim, once a simple criminal, a creation of Calvin's mind among millions of others-"

"Millions?" Hobbes grimaced. "That can't be good."

"He," Bullet continued, "through unknown methods, somehow gained power. He rose up and turned against us, against the forces which had created him. He began corrupting the essence of the subconscious, spreading his evil and filth through every immaterial inch of it. The web he spun grew rapidly. We barely had any warning. It happened so… so fast.

"Like you said, he was bending the mind to his will, turning it into his mind, transforming it into a darker and fouler version of itself. He became a virus, and try what we might, the Subconscious was overrun. We retreated to the Conscious and began to muster the defenses. Soon Crim began his attack and his forces hit us like a slug bullet. All our men and arms are at the frontlines. Even then he's been slowly but steadily pushing us back. There still might have been hope, hope to drive him back, to regain and purify the mind … until now, that is, until you came sauntering in here."

"Me?" Hobbes said indignantly. "What did I do?"

"Well, it was actually the news you brought us. Your presence here was more than confirmation of what we had been suspecting for a sometime."

"That Calvin's been trapped by his own subconscious?"

"Your powers of deduction astound me. More or less, yes," Bullet nodded. "However ironic that may sound, for us, for the mind, it is akin to a death sentence."

Hobbes remembered the horrified and shocked faces of all the Calvins he had met.

"Well, no offence, but you all do seem to be overreacting a bit. I mean, heavens know I'm worried too, but a death sentence seems to be putting it a bit too… too…"

His voice faltered under the piercing look Bullet gave him.

"You underestimate the gravity of these events, Hobbes," he said quietly. "In your world, Calvin is just a six year old. In ours... he is everything. We are Calvin, all of us, each a tiny facet of his personality, of his being. He is our purpose. The reason we are. Take that purpose away and our existence is meaningless. We'll flounder. Already the war has worsened drastically. We're fighting a losing battle, Hobbes. And our only hope is Calvin. Now don't you dare tell me that you're _worried_ for him."

There was no mistaking the venom in the detective's voice.

"I… I didn't mean…" Hobbes stammered. "I'm not worried… I mean I am… I just…"

Fortunately, due to some unknown distraction, Bullet looked to his left, saving Hobbes the trouble of making an answer. Unfortunately, he soon noticed the distraction too.

His tufted ears made out a distant, dull sound.

Boom…boom…boom…

The floor began to tremble. Hobbes sat up. The sound was coming from the direction of the wall Tracer was looking at. And it was growing louder.

…boom…boom…_boom_…

"What's that?" Hobbes asked nervously.

"Oh, for Pete's sake," Bullet groaned.

..._boom_…_boom…_ _**BOOOOOOM!**_

Instinct kicked in and Hobbes leaped for cover just a second before the wall exploded, raining dust and debris all over the place. He yelped and curled into a ball, covering his head.

Bullet sighed, his hat tipped low to shield his face.

Hobbes cowered with his head under the chair, peeking through his hands. He made out the silhouette of a figure approaching them through the dust.

"Whoo! That packed a walloped, didn't it? Got some dust in my eyes but I say it was worth it!"

"And _I say_," Bullet growled, "that if next time you don't use the door, Stupendous Man, I will stick the barrel of my glock in your mouth and pull the trigger."

"Now where would the fun be in that, mystery boy? Anyways, I'm more or less bulletproof."

Out of the clearing dust stepped another Calvin, this one wearing an all-too familiar red cape and mask, along with a gleaming red suit which somehow remained untouched by all the debris in the air.

Hobbes stood up cautiously.

Stupendous Man grinned at him and Bullet, rubbing his yellow-gloved hands.

"I mean, wasn't that amazing, folks? Wasn't that _stupendous_? Going through dozens of walls at sixty miles per an hour and coming out unharmed! Come on, let's have some applause!"

He threw up his hands expectantly.

Bullet and Hobbes stared at him in silence.

"...No?" he said, disappointed. "Just a few claps?... Anybody?"

The silence only seemed to deepen.

Stupendous Man sighed. "You just can't find a proper audience these days."

"Maybe because these days they have some more important things to do, Stupendous Man," said Bullet. He nodded in Hobbes's direction. "And so do we."

"Ah," Stupendous Man said and strode forward. "Hobbes, the one and only Hobbes, we meet at last. Absolutely delighted, young chap, delighted!"

"You seem to be the only who is," Hobbes muttered, shooting a sidelong glance at Bullet.

"Oh do excuse Bullet boy here, he's never been very social, anyways. I believe a firm handshake is in order. It's not every day I get to meet such a scintillating personality like yourself."

"Uh, I don't think you should-" Bullet warned.

"Why certainly," Hobbes said, clearly mollified, and extended his hand.

Stupendous Man shook it with vigor. Perhaps a bit too much vigor.

_Crack!_

Hobbes gasped.

_Crrrick!_

His eyes bugged.

_Snap!_

His arm jerked.

Bullet sighed.

"Alright, then," Stupendous Man grinned and turned to Bullet, oblivious to Hobbes's evident pain. His smile faded. "I guess it's been confirmed, then?"

Bullet nodded. "He's down there."

"Ah, the crimes of evil have gone too far." There was a real edge to Stupendous Man's voice.

"Where's Spiff?" Bullet asked.

"He's leading the air fleet at the northern borders." Stupendous Man pulled back Hobbes's vacated seat and sat down. "Things are going bad there. He might not be able to come."

"Things are going to be bad everywhere now," said Bullet. "There's no hope in winning this with force. We know what our only chance is."

Stupendous Man rubbed his hands. "Righty-o, so we're going to do it?"

"Do what?" Hobbes asked.

Tracer nodded. "We can't waste time. It's now or never."

Now or never? That was exactly what Manny had said before sending Hobbes here. Oh, jeez.

"Now or never for what?"

"How many do we send?" said Stupendous Man.

"Send where?" Hobbes asked.

"We are not sending a military party! I told you we can't win this through force," Tracer snapped. "Only one can go. One of us."

"Go where?" said the tiger in exasperation.

Stupendous Man puffed out his chest. "Well I propose that-"

"You will not be going," Tracer cut in firmly.

"Oi!" he glared. "And why n-"

"Sorry to butt in!" Hobbes growled. "But will someone please tell me _what is going on!"_

Stupendous Man and Bullet stared at him. He glared back.

After a few moments, Stupendous Man answered.

"Our plan is simple," he said. "We need Calvin back. So we go straight into the subconscious, find him and bring him back."

"What? Just like that?"

"Of course not," Tracer said. "I told you, the Subconscious is no longer a part of our mind. It's been overrun by Crim. And walking straight into it is about as smart as striding in front of a sniper with a target sign painted over your rear."

"Oh good, because for a moment I was worried we might not have to do anything actually dangerous."

"None of the Conscious would dare venture into the Subconcious," said Stupendous Man. "They can't. The Conscious and the Subconscious are like land and water, like yin and yang. They can't survive in Subconscious the same way you can't survive underwater. Its very essence burns and freezes them. They would never come near it."

In his mind's eye, Hobbes saw the scared face of the receptionist Calvin.

_It's… below._

Right on cue, an icy gust of wind blew through the room, saturating it with its cold touch. Hobbes tried to suppress a shiver but Tracer noticed.

"You can feel it, can't you, tiger?" he said quietly. "You can feel its aura hovering around us… haunting us."

"Just a light breeze," Hobbes said, waving a hand nonchalantly.

"No point in acting brave, kid. You're turning as white as spoilt milk."

Hobbes glared at him.

"You're surrounded by buildings, people, civilization, everything that represents order," Stupendous man said. "But below your feet is nothing but wilderness. Raw, untameable wilderness."

Hobbes looked down at the paneled wood nervously. His feet were feeling a bit vulnerable.

"How thick is this floor?" he asked.

Bullet shrugged. "Some would say not thick enough."

The vulnerable feeling increased.

"But…" he said. "But… I mean…that place can't be worse than this one. I saw guns and tanks and dinosaurs and… and… and Calvins! Calvins by the dozen! What could be worse than this?"

Bullet and Stupendous Man just looked at him silently.

"Uh, I take it from your silence that you agree?" Hobbes said hopefully.

"By the way, how was your trip down here, young chap?" Stupendous Man asked. "What did you think about Calvin's mind?"

"What do I _think_ about it?" said Hobbes. "Well, to put my answer in a nutshell, it's dangerous, lethal, hazardous not to mention crazy, mad, insane and completely bonkers! No sane person would ever come here."

"Which would explain why you're here," Bullet added.

"I didn't ask for any comments from you, Holmes."

"So that's it?" Stupendous Man said. "Dangerous, insane, eh? Come now, is that all?"

Hobbes hesitated. "Well…"

"Yes?"

He sighed.

"I have no idea how to explain. It's just so weird. Everything looked so real but still felt so… unreal. And then I'm meeting you guys."He gestured at Stupendous Man and Bullet. "Calvin's imaginary heroes, the protagonists of his fantasies and adventures… you're like his… his alter egos, everything he wanted to be. And now you're sitting just a few feet away from me.

Tracer Bullet, the suave private eye, scourge of the criminal underworld."

"Oh come, you're making me blush," Bullet said in a monotone, lighting another cigar.

"Stupendous Man, the classic superhero, brave, dashing-"

"And stupendous!" the superhero grinned proudly, ruffling the collar of his costume.

"The only thing which is stupendous about you is your head," Bullet said.

"Well, I don't like to boast," Stupendous Man drawled. "But my IQ level is higher than… hey!"

"The Big Three, the Wonder Trio… well, that's two of you," Hobbes mused. "The only one that's left is-"

In a sudden crackle of energy, a rift of electric blue light opened up right in the middle of Bullet's office, blinding them all. Out of it tumbled a Calvin wearing square shaped goggles and what looked like a blue jumper suit. In a flash, the rift disappeared.

"…Spaceman Spiff," Hobbes finished.

"Agh, that was a killer," Spiff groaned, gasping for breath.

"I see you got that teleporter to work," said Bullet.

"Still think I should make a few modifications." He struggled to his feet.

"Hey, Bullet," Spiff nodded. "How's it going, stupid man?"

"Stupendous Man!"

"Gotchya."

"I thought you were too busy with your precious air fleet," said Bullet.

He shrugged. "I think they can do without me. There's not much point in trying to win the battle now, I guess."

Spiff looked at Hobbes, the lens of his goggles narrowing.

"That's him, isn't it?" he said to Bullet.

Bullet and Stupendous Man nodded.

"So he's confirmed it?"

"Yes he has," Hobbes said in irritation. "You know, I am standing barely a meter away from you but from the way you all talk it's like I'm nothing but thin air."

"Oh, sorry about that," Spiff apologized. "Greetings, Hobbes, it's an honor to meet you. My name is-"

"Spaceman Spiff, right, I know," Hobbes said.

Spiff grinned. "Oh, so you've heard of me. Was it my exploits on the ice moon of Arkhoo? Or my dastardly escape from the volcanic mines of XZ-42? Or maybe my heroic chase through the twin rings of Zongmar 7? I must tell you, in that particular adventure I was barely-"

"Is this the time, Spiff?" Bullet sighed.

"Oh yeah, sorry," Spiff said but added with a small grin, "Still, I think I might be getting more famous than stupid man here."

"_Stupendous Man_!"

"I'll make a note of that."

He turned to Bullet. "So, then?"

"We'll be going ahead with the plan," Tracer Bullet nodded.

"Did you explain it to fuzzy over here?"

"Watch it, space boy!" Hobbes glared.

"Yes, on his insistence. We've explained everything."

"Right, then only one of us can go?" Spiff asked.

"Correct."

Stupendous Man cleared his throat. "Therefore, for the benefit of us all, I think that I should-"

"_Nooo_," Spiff and Bullet said together.

The superhero glared at them. "Why not? Why can't I go?" he whined.

"We all know that, even if it hadn't been infested by Crim, the Subconscious would still be a dangerous place," Tracer Bullet said.

"And considering the aforementioned infestation," said Spiff, "trying to sneak through it would be like climbing through an araknoid's web. One single tremor, one single strand, and you'll alert the big, fat spider in the middle.

"Which is why stealth will be needed," said Bullet. "Stealth and subtlety."

"What makes you think I can't do subtle?" Stupendous Man said crossly.

Bullet stared at him and nodded in the direction of the wreaked wall.

"Whoo, no wonder it's so dusty in here," said Spiff.

"I'll go," Tracer Bullet said.

"You?" Stupendous Man scoffed.

"Yes, me," he said, calmly cracking his knuckles. "Got a problem with that, Stupe?"

"Hmm... actually, it does make sense," Spiff nodded. "As a private eye, you've lived in the shadiest and darkest places of the Subs. You know all its back alleys and out-of-the-way tracks like the back of your hand. And subtlety and stealth are your areas of expertise. Out of the three of us, you're probably the most well-equipped to go."

"So I guess it's decided, then," Bullet said, looking at Stupendous Man.

The superhero stared sulkily at the desk in front of him.

"Alright, fine," he muttered.

The meeting finally seemed to be nearing its end.

Spiff took a deep breath. "Well then, this is nice, isn't it? The fate of the conscious, the subconscious, the entire mind- all resting on the shoulders of one person."

Hobbes suddenly spoke up. "Not one. Two."

The three alter egos looked at him.

"And what do you mean by that?" Bullet asked.

"Simple," said Hobbes. "I'm coming with you."

His words took them by surprise. The lenses of Spiff's goggles were two round O's. Stupendous Man and Bullet stood up.

"_You?_" Bullet said.

Hobbes's fur bristled at the unhidden contempt and derision in his voice.

"Yes, me," he said angrily. "Surprising, isn't it? You all just thought I was some coward or wimp, didn't you? Didn't even give me a second glance when you strolled in here?"

"No we didn't-"

"Of course not-"

"Oh please! The three of you have been having a nice lovely chat while I've been standing in this corner the whole time doing nothing! What, did you think I just took a nice walk here to inform you that Calvin's gone, that he's been kidnapped by his own dumb mind! Did you think I'd saunter away after that with a spring in my steps and leave his fate in your incompetent hands?"

"Incompentent?"

"Oi, this his mind-"

_"And it's his mind which got him trapped in the first place!"_ Hobbes threw his hands up in the air emphatically. _"The whole problem started in this godforsaken place!"_

He paused to take a breath while the trio stared at him in silence.

"Now listen to me," he growled. "I don't care if Calvin is your god or your purpose or whatever you said. To me, he's annoying, he's irritating, he's whiny and- oh yes, he also my_ best friend_! And I came here to save him and that's what I'm going to do! I'll go alone if I have to but I'm going all the same whether you like it or not!"

He finished with a huff, glaring defiantly at each of them, daring them to protest. His eyes came to rest on Bullet, who had stayed silent throughout his tirade.

"Well," the detective said, coolly stubbing his second cigar on his desk. "Looks like you're not as bad as I thought, tiger."

"You flatter me."

"Well, it does make sense," Spiff nodded.

"Everything makes sense to you, doesn't it?" Stupendous Man groaned.

"But think, the same way we know the Subconscious, the Subconscious knows us. Chances are it could easily sense Tracer's presence before he gets even halfway through. But Hobbes over here, he's something completely alien. His scent would be unrecognizable and less noticeable, therefore, covering Tracer's presence."

"Are you telling me I smell?" Hobbes asked indignantly.

"So they can't find us at all?" said Bullet.

Spiff shrugged. "They can. It'll just be a bit harder for them."

"A bit?" Stupendous Man asked dubiously.

"It still means that the tiger could actually come in use," Bullet said.

"Now isn't that sad?" Hobbes asked him sarcastically.

A few moments of silence passed. The realization dawned upon each present that nothing was left to be said. It was time.

"Well, then," Stupendous Man said, puffing out his cheeks. "No point in diddy-dallying, eh?"

"Right you are, Stupid Man," said Spiff.

"Stupendous Man!"

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Right then," Bullet said.

Hobbes nodded. "Let's do it."

Bullet turned and lead the way. The others followed him silently, stepping through the hole in the wall, across another room, down a flight of stairs, through a slimy corridor and finally- into a small, hollow chamber.

Hobbes looked around and hugged himself, shivering. Here, the cold was worse than ever. The wind wasn't blowing. It didn't need to. The whole atmosphere was thick and saturated with its touch. Hobbes felt like he was walking through a dense fog. It was almost difficult to breathe.

"Looks like a sewer," he commented.

"Maybe because it is," Spiff said and pointed to the center of the room.

Hobbes made out a large manhole set deep within the floor. The quartet surrounded it, watching it silently.

"Bullet," Spiff said, breaking the silence. "Before you go, I brought something you should take."

"A parting gift?" Bullet raised an eyebrow. "Really, Spiff, if you try to give me one more of those disgusting extraterrestrial food packs-"

"No, it's nothing like that," Spiff said but added in a mutter. "Sissy."

He fished into the pocket of his blue suit and pulled out a tiny disc shaped device. It was the size of his palm, metallic and etched with grooves curving around its center. A button poked out of a small depression in the center.

"Just in case," said Spiff. "Wherever you are in the Subs, no matter how deep you are, if you press this button, you'll be pulled right back up to Conscious pronto."

He snapped his fingers on the last word for emphasis.

The others stared at the gadget.

"Are you sure it works?" Hobbes asked.

"I designed it myself," Spiff grinned.

"Is that a no?" said Stupendous Man.

Spiff glared at him.

"You just did this?" said Bullet.

"I've been working on it ever since the revolt started," Spiff said. "Just in case we might need to go down there. I designed it carefully and meticulously," he shot a nasty glance at Stupendous Man, "so, in theory, it should work one hundred percent."

"Should?" Hobbes said.

"And in practicality?" asked Bullet.

Spiff shrugged. "That would be ninety-nine point zero, one, five, zero, zero, eight, nine, four, three, six, five, eight, one, one percent...ish."

"Good enough for me," Hobbes said, snatching the device from Spiff's hands and holding it close like a can of tuna.

"I think I should take that, Hobbes," said Bullet.

"This gizmo could be our lifesaver," Hobbes said. "Maybe I should take it, you know, to keep it safe."

"Unless you have a pocket somewhere in that fur coat…"

Hobbes looked down at the disk, then, reluctantly, he put it in Bullet's outstretched hand.

The detective pocketed it deep inside his overcoat.

Then he turned to the manhole. He hesitated... then nodded at Spiff and Stupendous Man.

The trio moved forward and knelt down, their hands reaching out to grip the cold wheel. Hobbes stepped back nervously. All his instincts were telling him to run. His realized his hands were trembling. He gritted his teeth and made an effort to keep them still.

It didn't work.

Tracer looked at the other two. "Remember," he said. "It can't stay open for too long, or else the Subconscious might start leaking through."

They nodded.

"I'll go first. Then Hobbes will come after me."

Bullet looked at Hobbes and nodded once.

Then, he took a deep breath and, together, the three alter egos pushed the wheel, throwing their full weight on it, grunting with the effort. It turned an inch… another inch…

_Let it be jammed_, Hobbes suddenly thought. _Just let it be jammed and never open. I'd give up all the tuna in the world if that thing would never ever-_

Then, with a long screech, the wheel began turning, faster, faster until it was spinning of its own accord. It came to a stop with a metallic clang. With a groan, the manhole flipped open- unleashing a torrent of cold, freezing wind.

With a howl, the gale swept through the chamber with all the force of a tornado, blinding them, seizing their body with deathly cold fingers.

Hobbes clapped his hands over his ear. Never had he imagined that something as simple as wind could produce such piercing screams such as this. But it wasn't really wind. That was just how his tiny little mind perceived it.

Then what was it? What could this all possibly be?

He looked up to see Bullet crouching right on the edge of the hole, preparing to jump inside. He looked up, looked at Hobbes.

The detective nodded, coolly adjusting his hat.

But was that a trace of apprehension Hobbes saw in his eyes?

Before he could tell for sure, Bullet jumped- one single jump- and was gone. Through the hole. The hellhole.

And now it was his turn.

Hobbes tried to move. He tried to force his legs to walk. But his mind, his entire body, was paralyzed with fear. He could hear the muted voice of Spiff and Stupendous calling him, shouting as if from a far distance.

_For Calvin. _

Two words, two single words that suddenly rang through his mind.

_For Calvin._

Hobbes took one step, his legs quivering like jelly. Then another. Then one more.

And he was at the edge of the manhole, crouching besides Spiff and Stupendous Man, barely aware of their presence. And he looked down, looked through the hole and saw-

The darkness. The twisting, coiling darkness which he had seen not so long on a game boy screen. Here. Right in front of him. Sinister and sinuous, like a snake.

Hobbes's hands were trembling. He tried to take a deep breath but it seemed to catch in his throat, choking him.

_This is for Calvin_, he told himself. _Come on tiger, look inside yourself. There's more than fear in there. I know._

Hobbes concentrated. He tried to look inside himself. He tried to see past the suffocating blanket of fear, tried to look deeper, tried to look beyond that. He tried to find something... more.

Instead, he found a sudden craving for a fresh tuna sandwich.

_Well, that'll have to do,_ he thought ruefully.

He looked at Spiff and Stupendous Man.

"Wish me luck?" he said, shouting to have his voice heard above the howling wind.

"WHAT?" They screamed.

"I said wish me luck!"

"WHAT?"

"I SAID- Oh, good heavens!"

Without further ado, Hobbes shut his eyes and jumped. He gave himself up to the darkness, felt it envelope him, felt it drag him down.

Let the terror begin.

* * *

><p>It was after his fifth glass of juice when Manny decided to go back up and check.<p>

He made this decision reluctantly. He tried to kid himself that one more glass wouldn't do any harm. But he knew it would when his mom would come home and find the newly bought pack of orange juice already half-finished, though she'd probably put the blame on his dad first.

Stix crawled to his master's feet and pawed at his shoes, whining hopefully.

Manny glared at him. "No Sugar Bombs for you," he said. "Not after what you've done today."

He pushed back his chair and walked out of the kitchen, ignoring the pug's disappointed moan.

Truth be told, Manny didn't want to go back there again. He didn't want to sit and watch his two best friends sprawled on the floor with the knowledge that both of them were in the utmost danger and with the even more frustrating knowledge that there was nothing he could do but wait.

He felt helpless, so darn helpless, and the thought of waiting ten hours frustrated him more.

Sighing, he trudged up the stairs. He was near the top and had almost convinced himself that more juice would very well improve his health when-

**_Crash!_**

Manny froze. He looked up.

The sound had come from the attic.

He dashed up the last few steps and ran down the hall to trapdoor. He pulled the string and was halfway up the ladder before it had fully unfolded. Breathing hard, Manny hauled himself through the square gap. He stood and looked around.

He saw Hobbes. He saw the helmet. He saw the wires that connected him to the box. So far so good. But one thing was missing.

Crim.

Crim was gone. His wires were strewn on floor and the helmet had apparently been thrown at the window, which sported a long crack.

But Criminal Calvin was nowhere to be seen.

Manny groaned with horror. "Where did you go?"

"Peek-a-boo," a voice whispered behind him.

Before Manny could even move, his head exploded.

Crim stared at the crumpled figure before him with grim satisfaction. He held a medical textbook in his hands.

"An eye for an eye," he said, tossing the textbook away.

His eyes swept over the attic, taking the box and the prone figure of the tiger. What the hell had they been trying to do? Probably wanted to switch him back with Calvin.

The fools. Nothing was going to stop him now.

Crim went to the trapdoor and climbed down the ladder. Closing the door, he walked towards the landing with unsteady steps.

His bloody head was hurting like hell! Damn that kid and his tiger! But why bother with them? Indeed, why?

As he walked down the stairs, a grin began to spread across Crim's face. He walked to the front door and opened it. Stepping outside, he slowly looked around him, taking in everything he saw.

A whole world lay before him. A real world, full of real, innocent people. Ready for him to build his own criminal empire. He could start anywhere.

Oh, he was going to have fun.

But before that, there was still business to be taken care of.

_They_ had helped him grow.

_They_ had helped him escape.

And, somehow, he knew, that if he did not return the favor, they could just as easily pull him back.

Taking a deep breath of the morning air, Crim took his first steps into the new world, unsure and unsteady at first, but growing in confidence. Soon he was walking with long, purposeful strides.

There was work to do. And a debt to repay.


	8. A Cold Welcome

Hobbes stared. He simply stared.

For a moment, he couldn't quite understand what he was seeing.

Wide-eyed, mouth open, the tiger looked straight at.… himself.

Standing right in front of him was another Hobbes, another tiger, completely identical right to the tufted ears, looking at him with a confused and unsure expression.

He twitched. So did the other Hobbes.

He raised his left hand. So did the other. No wait, it was raising its right hand.

It was his reflection, he realized. He was looking at a mirror.

Hobbes turned around. He saw faded white walls, grey floor tiles and a line of cubicles with their wooden doors thankfully closed. He was standing inside a bathroom. A public lavatory.

His confusion only deepened. This definitely didn't seem like his idea of wilderness.

He frowned. Wilderness? Why did he think of that word?

The door opened with a creak. A middle-aged man walked in, carrying a handbag.

"Um…. Hello," Hobbes said.

The man grunted with barely a glance and stepped inside one of the cubicles, shutting the door behind. Not very loquacious. And apparently not fazed by a bipedal carnivore greeting him in the middle of a public bathroom.

Hobbes shook his head, thinking hard.

Where was he? Where was he supposed to be?

Oh right. In the Subconscious, of course.

But that answer only served to lead to a dozen more questions.

Subconscious? Why was he in a subconscious? Whose subconscious? Why did he come here in the first place?

Hobbes shut his eyes and concentrated. Somewhere in his mind, in his memories, the answers were there, all of them. He knew why he was here. He knew what he had to do. He just had to remember.

He had come here for a reason. What was it?

He needed to do something. It was urgent. Very urgent. He had to… had to….

Wasn't he supposed to get something?

He frowned. He had come here for something. That was it. He had come to find something. It was something… something… something yellow?

Maybe it was mustard. He wouldn't mind some mustard. Or maybe not.

But there was something else, something more pressing.

Hobbes searched his mind, struggling to remember. A single word popped out of nowhere.

Bullet.

Bullet? He groaned. He was making no sense at all to himself.

Did he want a gun? Why would he want a gun? Poachers used guns. He hated poachers. And where would he trace a gun in this place?

His eyes shot open. He hesitated.

Trace a gun…

The phrase kept ringing in his mind. It had some meaning.

Trace a gun.

Trace a gun.

Trace a bullet.

Trace a… Bullet!

"Bullet!" Hobbes exclaimed. "Of course!"

How on earth could he forget? Now where did that dumb detective sneak off too? He couldn't be too far away.

Hobbes hurried to the door and exited the bathroom. His sudden elation was more due to relief. Wherever he was, he wasn't alone, even if it did mean the company of a disgruntled private eye.

Hobbes had stepped into a short and dust hall.

A short walk and it led into what looked like a bar. A very dim, dark and dusty bar. The conversation was restrained to a dull murmur. Men huddled at their seats, leaning over their drinks, speaking to their neighbors in low mutters. The shades were drawn and lighting was a dull yellow.

All in all, one of the most unfriendly and unwholesome places Hobbes had ever seen.

He hesitated, not sure what to do.

His mind was spinning. Hundreds of thoughts were crammed into his mind- sounds, images, memories- each clamoring for attention, dissolving into a whirlwind of confusion.

Hobbes headed for the front of the bar, intending to sit down and recollect his thoughts. He pulled up a stool and sat down, trying to ignore the curious and somewhat wary looks some of the people were giving him.

Hobbes sighed and closed his eyes, thinking hard. It was coming back to him. The war, the Calvins, Tracer Bullet, Stupendous Man, Spiff, the meeting they had, the small chamber, the hole filled with darkness-

"You want something?"

Hobbes's eyes snapped open. The barman was standing in front of him on the other side of the counter. He was a small, thick-set person with an ugly face which suggested that somebody upstairs had a bad sense of humor.

"You want something?" he asked again, eyeing the tiger suspiciously.

Hobbes was slightly disconcerted by the sight of a large meat cleaver held carelessly in his hand.

"Um… some water would be okay."

The barman looked him up and down, then grunted and left. He hadn't been speaking in a very light tone and their small conversation had attracted much attention.

Hobbes sank lower on his seat, noticing that many were watching him silently. His fur prickled uncomfortably.

Why were they looking at him like that? Hadn't they ever seen a tiger ask for water?

In a minute, the barman was back, plunking a large, stained glass in front of Hobbes, who studied it distastefully. The glass looked smudge and dirty and he thought he could see tiny specks floating in the water.

But the barman was still standing there, watching him.

He took a sip. It took all his willpower not to gag. Tasted like it came from a mud puddle.

"It's very good," Hobbes said to the barman, swallowing hastily. "Excellent. Haven't tasted water like this in my whole life."

The last statement was probably the only one which was true.

The barman gave him another suspicious look and walked away to tend to the other customers.

Hobbes tried to drink a bit more of the water to be polite but, after few sips, pushed it away. On second thought, a mud puddle would have been more wholesome.

He took a deep breath and sighed.

It had all come back to him. Where he was. Why he was here. And what he had come to do.

Hobbes glanced furtively around the bar. All the people were fully grown adults. There was no sight of spiky yellow hair among them.

Well, of course it wouldn't be that easy. But he had to be here somewhere.

But Bullet. He had to find Bullet first. He would know what to do. Without the private eye, Hobbes would be lost. He had no idea where to go.

A sudden fear sprang up in Hobbes's mind.

They had both entered the manhole separately. So where was the guarantee that they would end up together? Wasn't it possible that they might turn up in different places in the Subconscious? What if Bullet was thousands of miles away? How would Hobbes find him?

_No,_ he told himself fiercely, trying to calm his frantic mind. _He's here. He has to be. He's probably somewhere close by wondering where I am._

Then maybe he should go look for him. No point in staying here. Right, then. First step: Find Detective Lunkhead.

Having found something to do at last, Hobbes moved the cup away, pushed his stool back, and made to leave-

"And who's gonna pay for that?"

Hobbes turned.

The barman was back and glaring at Hobbes. He held out a grubby hand.

"Uh, you charge for water?" Hobbes asked nervously.

"You tellin' me you're not?"

"Oh, of course I am," the tiger said, trying to keep a quaver out of his voice. "Um, how much?"

"Ten bucks. Cough up."

"Ten bucks for a glass of water?" Hobbes protested.

The barman hefted his large meat cleaver, switching it to his next hand so it could catch the dull glint of the light.

Hobbes's throat was suddenly feeling a bit dry. He cleared it noisily, noticing that once again the entire bar's attention was on him.

"Ten bucks you say. Ten bucks it is!" he grinned. "Let me just go get my friend and he'll pay on my behalf-"

The pudgy hand slammed down on the wooden counter with the force of a battering ram. The barman leaned forward, leering at Hobbes. He was so close the tiger could see the spittle on his lips, smell the alcohol on his breath.

"No one leaves my pub without paying!" he hissed.

A murmur was passing through the watching crowd. And it definitely didn't sound like a sympathetic one. The people closest to the duo stood up, their chairs grinding on the wood.

Beads of sweat had accumulated on Hobbes's whiskers.

"No, wait!" he pleaded. "I have a friend. He has money. He'll pay you!"

The people around them were moving closer, forming a circle around Hobbes.

The barman glanced down to where the cup lay in plain sight, full to the brim. He raised his eyes to look at Hobbes.

"Cough up now," he threatened, "or else."

"I don't have any money!" said Hobbes frantically, conscious of the tight circle around him. "I'll just go and get-"

"You got no cash and still expect me to treat you like a bloody king!" the barman snarled.

The muttering increased. More people were crowding in around the tiger, making an impenetrable wall.

"No… please…" Hobbes gasped.

Fear clawed at his insides.

The circle around him shrunk.

The barman's grip tightened around the meat cleaver.

Which was when, with barely a sound, a lightly folded square of green paper flew out of nowhere, whisking over the heads of the assorted spectators and landing next to the bartender's hand.

Silence fell.

The barman stared at the paper, picked it up, unfolded it. It was a ten-dollar note.

"Now, hope that satisfy you?"

Hobbes never thought he'd be so happy to hearing that infuriatingly sardonic voice.

The crowd parted to give entry to a figure in a grey overcoat. Though shorter than the rest, he clearly commanded an intimidating air.

"I think I asked a question," said Tracer Bullet, staring coolly at the bartender. "You got your check. Are you satisfied now?"

The barman glared but looked away, muttering his assent. His cleaver wielding hand reluctantly loosened its grip.

Bullet looked around impassively at the audience's faces.

"I don't think there's anything more to see here, is there?" he said quietly. His voice carried clearly through the bar.

The crowd shrank back. No one was able to meet the detective's gaze. Slowly they dispersed and returned to their seats.

Bullet nodded and muttered to Hobbes, "Follow me."

Together, they head for the exit. Hobbes could still feel the angry eyes of the barman following him and was glad when they passed through the doors. He sighed in relief.

"I owe you one."

Bullet merely grunted.

Hobbes looked around.

Compared to dark, dusty interiors of the pub, their new surroundings were rather modern.

They were standing on the sidewalk of a large paved street, among a bustling crowd. Cars buzzed along the road in a hurry, horns beeping, drivers yelling at each other. Tall buildings surrounded them, some brick some glass and steel. Not too far away, skyscrapers lived up to their name, stretching towards a grey blanket of clouds.

It was a normal urban setting. Very normal. _Too_ normal.

Bullet must've had mind-reading powers because, a moment later, he spoke.

"A bit ordinary than you expected, isn't it?"

Hobbes looked at him, not sure what to say.

"I just expected… I… I don't know what I expected but it wasn't this. It's looks like a normal average downtown. You call this wilderness?"

Bullet shook his head, as if he had expected such a response.

"It doesn't work like that. Not here," he murmured.

Hobbes watched the people passing by, men and women of every type, all scurrying about on their own business, barely glancing at others. He noticed that barely any of them were talking to each other. They just walked by, avoiding eye contact, collars turned up against a chilly wind.

Near the street corners, he spotted small groups of rough looking teens muttering among themselves, eying the passing crowd with a dangerous gleam.

The very air felt… unwholesome, unclean.

It was as if a thick blanket of silence lay over the city, shrouding it, suffocating it.

Something just didn't feel right.

"The Subconscious is a tricky little thing Hobbes. It's smart. It's cunning. It's subtle." Bullet gestured at their environment. "You're seeing what it's showing you. And you're believing what it's showing you. In the Subconscious, you don't know what to expect. It's a maze full of mirages and traps. It can deceive you, make you doubt yourself. And with absolute ease, if I might add."

"You're talking about like it's a living being."

Tracer shrugged. "The Conscious makes up only ten percent of the human mind. Just as land makes up only thirty percent of earth. This is the deep blue sea which makes up the rest. At times it may seem all sparkly like a fresh glass of wine and at other times, it's murky and gray. While you're here, you can't trust anything."

"Then how can I trust you?" asked Hobbes. "For all I know, you might be a mirage yourself, an illusion constructed by the Subconscious to fool me."

Bullet smiled. "You're catching on quicker than I thought, tiger. Truth is, you don't know if you can trust me. All you have is my word."

"Goody."

Hobbes stared at the people passing by, the cars, the buildings, the pigeons hopping across ground.

"So this is what the Subconscious is showing me, not what it actually is."

Bullet nodded. "Here, anything can happen. Anything can change. You don't what to expect, Hobbes. No rules. No limits. Nothing."

Hobbes began to feel uneasy. Everything looked so normal, sounded so normal, felt so normal. And yet…

"Come, tiger. Let's take a walk," said Bullet.

As they walked down the sidewalk, mingling with the crowd, Hobbes couldn't stop glancing around.

A light drizzle had begun to fall. The crowd continued moving, taking no notice of them. Birds flew overhead. Cars beeped. People muttered.

And beneath this all there was a feeling… a feeling of tension, of anticipation, as if a hungry beast was lurking beneath the exterior of this metropolis, watching them, tasting their scent.

Ready to strike at any moment.

Somewhere in the distance, Hobbes could hear the dull rumble of thunder, ominous and foreboding.

* * *

><p>It was a normal, hot summer's day in the suburbs. Noon was approaching and the sun was reaching its peak. If one were to take a walk to the local playground he would've heard screams of laughter and seen dozens of children running to and fro, squealing in delight.<p>

They were all five-year olds and six-year olds, along with a few younger toddlers. Some crowded the slide, scrambling up the ladder, desperate to be the next one to go down. Some were on the see-saws, rising up and down while chattering with their friends. A few had seized the swings and were flying to the heavens while others screamed at them to get off.

All were running. All were talking. All were playing.

Except one.

Crim watched the children with disgust.

Squealing, ugly little things. Like pigs. Hard to believe he was ever one.

_Or,_ he thought, grimacing as he looked down at himself, _that he still was one._

He stood near the edge of the playground, standing under the shade of a few trees. Ever since he had gotten away from that bloody kid's house, he had wondered through the neighborhood, not sure what to do.

The world was full of possibilities and he had no idea where to begin. Just the thought of what he should first made him dizzy.

It was a shame he was stuck in a six-year-old's body. That would be quite a hindrance. And he wouldn't grow up until after ten years. No way he was going to wait that long.

Besides, before he could fully indulge himself, there was still some business to be taken care of. He would have to get to work sooner or later. After all, there was no point in keeping them waiting…

Without warning, something came flying through the air and hit Crim in the side of his head.

"Ow!" he swore, stepping back.

Dammnit, he'd had enough of flying objects hitting him!

Looking down, he spotted a toy airplane lying in the grass. He picked it up just as a young toddler came running towards him.

He was a small boy, short and chubby, barely four years old from the look of it. He stopped in front of Crim, twisting his hands behind his back shyly. His eyes alighted on the airplane.

"Excuse me, can you give me my airplane?" he said, stretching out a chubby, grass-stained hand tentatively.

Crim stared at him. He was more than a head taller than the kid. Keeping the airplane gripped casually in his hand, he bent down until their eyes were level with each other.

The boy stepped back, feeling uncomfortable.

"Is this your airplane?" Crim asked kindly.

He nodded vigorously, grinning with the pride of his possession.

"Yup! Mom bought it for me yesterday!"

"You must be a very proud boy to have his own airplane."

More vigorous nodding.

"You must like it very much."

And again.

There was a pause.

"Do you?"

"Yes, I do!"

Crim shrugged. "Well, that settles it."

He stepped back. His outstretched arm flew upwards and flung the airplane behind him.

Time seemed to slow as it sailed through the air, past the trees, over a fence and clattered to a stop on the gravel road where it promptly came under the tire of a passing car.

The resounding crack that followed seemed to ring in the toddler's ears. He stared dumbly at the remains of his beloved toy.

"My plane," he mumbled.

His eyes were starting to well up.

"Oh, get a grip, kid," Crim groaned.

He stepped forward and shoved the boy out of his way.

"And when you get another toy plane, watch where you're tossing it about, okay. I'm not sure your mommy would want to buy a third one."

He continued walking, leaving the youngster to cry quietly to himself as he lay in the dirt.

This reminds of me of when I was in kindergarten, Crim thought wistfully

He had barely taken a dozen steps before a blunt voice called across the park.

"Hey, twinkie!"

Crim stopped and looked around.

"Hey twinkie!"

Twinkie?

"Over here, twinks!"

He spotted him. Standing next to the swings, which had suddenly been vacated, Crim saw an ugly bull wearing a plain t-shirt, shorts and a dirty brown wig.

At least that was the impression he got at first glance. In the second, he saw a boy who looked like an ugly bull wearing a plain t-shirt, shorts and a dirty brown wig.

Most people know him as Moe.

Moe grinned, waving a hand the size of a trash can lid.

"What's wrong, twinkie?" he called. "You gone deaf?"

Crim looked at a group of toddlers playing on the see-saws near him.

"Excuse me," he said. "Is one of you twinky? 'Cause your brother's calling you?"

The kids looked at him. Then they looked at where he pointed. There were gasps and murmurs of fear and the see-saws were promptly vacated, just like the poor swings.

_This bloke doesn't seem that popular_, Crim thought.

When he looked back, Moe was walking towards him, his thick arms swinging dumbly at his sides. Most of the children gave him a wide berth. But two separated from the crowd and joined him. They were obviously his cronies, smaller yet similar.

Moe stopped in front of Crim, folding his arms and looking down at him. The cronies stood on either side, leering at the harmless six-year old.

Crim stared back, his face showing no emotion.

Moe watched him, disconcerted by this lack of reaction.

A few seconds passed.

"Something you wanted, Bessie?" Crim asked.

Moe started. He looked around to see if someone named Bessie standing nearby. Having assured himself there wasn't, he looked back at Crim.

"My name's Moe," he said bluntly.

"I'm sure it is."

"It's Moe, okay twinkie. M-O."

"Shouldn't there be an 'e' at the end?" Crim asked politely.

"Uhh… no?"

"I think there should."

"No there isn't!" Moe said impatiently. "Why are you talking all weird?"

"It's called a British accent, Bess. And from my experience, around these parts, you usually add an 'e' at the end of Moe. Which country are you from?"

Moe stared at Crim, trying to think through what he had said.

"Um, my mom came from Califora?"

"You mean California?"

"I guess so."

"And is that in America?"

"Uhh, maybe."

"How can you be sure?"

Moe gritted his teeth. The gears of his tiny mind were working double time to solve this puzzle. Instead of confirming the location of California, however, he instead remembered why he was talking to Calvin in the first place.

His thick-fingered hand shot out and grasped the collar of Crim's shirt. He pulled the kid's face close to his own and glared at him through his ugly mop of hair.

"I need some bucks, twinkie," Moe growled. "Cough up. Now."

Crim stiffened. His face turned grim and he looked down at the hand gripping his collar.

"Why should I… Moe?" he hissed.

"'Cause I said so," said Moe.

"And that puts everything right, doesn't it?"

A feeling of uncertainty was growing in Moe's mind. Though he didn't know much about the world around him, he knew exactly the ways Calvin would react to his bullying sessions.

And this wasn't one of them.

Crim looked straight into Moe's eyes, drilling holes into them with his own cold ones.

"Let me go," he said.

Something in his voice made Moe obey. His hand loosened its grip and Crim stepped back, readjusting his shirt.

The cronies looked at their leader uncertainly, not sure what was going on.

Moe wasn't sure that he did either but he sure didn't like it.

"So you were saying?" Crim asked, dusting himself off.

"Give me some money," Moe growled again with as much menace as he could muster. "Now."

"Why?" asked Crim.

"Because I said so."

"So?"

Moe paused, confused. He scratched his head, thinking hard.

"He's not very bright, is he?" Crim asked one of his cronies.

They both were still looking at Moe.

The bully was conscious of their stares. He needed to do something fast.

Confused by his victim's infuriating coolness, and faced with another vexing question which proved to be too much strain on his mind, Moe resorted to the most basic action he knew.

His right arm drew back, thick as a tree trunk, and, in a split second, flew forward, carrying with it the force of a cannonball.

The impact of the fist sent Crim flying back so that he sprawled unceremoniously in the dirt. The cronies laughed and slapped their arms. They were obviously glad to see their leader back in action. Moe grinned, feeling in control at last.

Crim said nothing. He stood up, looking at Moe. His eyes were now pools of ice.

"You hit me," he said quietly.

"Yeah? So I did!" Moe said while his cronies continued to laugh like a pack of hyenas.

"But since you hit me," said Crim, "I'm going to have to hit you back."

This time Moe paid no attention to the hard tone in the six-year-old's voice. His grin widened.

"You wanna pick a fight with me, twinkie?" he said, pulling up his sleeve.

His sidekicks jeered at Crim, calling insults and challenges.

"Well, I did get into a bit of trouble in the last one I had but," he added, surveying the park around them, "I think it's safe to assume that there's no danger of long-range combat here."

Moe was still laughing, grinning condescendingly at the boy in front of him. Somehow, his tiny little mind just couldn't comprehend how this puny kid could hurt him.

"You're just a weenie. Compared to you, I'm like a big… uh, a big…"

"Dinosaur?" one of his crones suggested.

Moe nodded in agreement. "I'm like a big dinosaur! Compared to you, I'm a !"

Crim laughed. It was a cold, derisive laugh which wiped the grin of Moe's face and made his cronies glance at each other uneasily.

"Is that so? Big dinosaur, eh? Blimey."

"What're you laughing about?" Moe growled. "I'll pound you to pieces, you little wimp!"

Right now, Crim looked pretty calm and confident for a little wimp. And that was what angered Moe more than ever. By now, any kid would have been begging for his life or at least look a little frightened.

This casual and mocking disregard was something completely new to the veteran bully.

And he had enough.

"That's it!" Moe said, his face flushed red. He raised his arm again in all its muscled glory. "If you ain't gonna cough up a single penny in the next second I'll flatten you into the ground like a pancake! If you're so brave why don't you throw me a punch?"

"Gladly," Crim said curtly.

In the next two seconds, he had planned out his moves.

In the third, he executed them.

Strike to the head. Disorientate.

Fist to the stomach. Deflate lungs.

Undercut to chin. Bruise jaw.

Second strike to head. Discombobulate.

Leg sweep to the ankle. Unbalance.

And, top it all off, one massive full-powered kick in the chest.

Moe never knew what hit him. Literally.

One second he was standing there in front of Calvin. The next he was flying back to crash into his fellow mates. The three of them tumbled to the ground, two grunting under the weight of the other. Moe hurriedly tried to disentangle himself from his cronies.

He didn't have to.

A hand reached down and, grasping his collar, pulled him out of the pile. He found himself staring into two cold, hard eyes, like tunnels of ice. They had the glint of the maniac in them.

"As you were saying, hmm?" Crim said, silently reveling in the fear and awe he could see in the other's eyes

Moe let out an undignified whimper.

His head was spinning, his jaw was aching, his chest was burning and his mind was reeling in confusion and fear.

"What did you just say you were?" Crim said. "You said that, compared to me, you were a dinosaur, eh?"

Moe made no answer.

Crim looked at his cronies, still sprawled on the ground.

"Did he?"

They nodded hurriedly.

"I thought so. And that, my dear Bessie, is a very apt description. A big, fat dinosaur. But," he said, leaning in closer, "the thing about dinosaurs is that they're extinct. And if you ever get in my way again, I can promise you'll be going the same way. I hope we understand each other… well?"

Moe nodded mutely, his lips pressed tightly as if he was about to cry.

"Oh good, thank you for your cooperation," Crim grinned, suddenly cheerful, and tossed the bully away. "I apologize for any inconvenience caused. You can go now."

When they still sat there on their bums, staring at him, he sighed.

"I said... _scram_!"

They leapt to their feet and were off like lightning, stumbling over each other's feet.

Crim watched them go, pushing kids out of the way in their haste.

Like clumsy little dinosaurs, he thought, amused.

Crim chuckled.

The sun had nearly reached its zenith. The sky was brilliant blue. And he had just bullied two kids in a row. Not a bad way to start his journey in this world.

Still grinning with mirth, and feeling very pleased with himself, Crim walked out of the park, hands in his pockets. He took a path through the trees where it was cool under their shade.

This was just the beginning. Blimey, things had barely started yet! He had big things planned. Big things! And plenty of time. The smile never left Crim's face. At last, he was free. Free to do anything he wanted. Anything.

Without warning, a sudden tingling began in the back of Crim's mind. In a second, it had grown to a heavy headache. In three, it was a red hot pain that exploded through his head, filling it with agony.

Crim cried out, collapsing. His brain felt like it was being burnt and frozen at the same, not to mention being cut through with a chainsaw. He gritted his teeth, pressing his hands to his ears. His body contorted in spasms, his vision was tinted with red.

Then, quite suddenly, the pain was gone. Sooner than it had come, leaving his head feeling strangely empty.

For a few moments, Crim lay there, breathing hard. Finally, he pushed himself up and got to his feet. He felt shaken. And knew he had a good reason to.

He didn't need to wonder what all that was about. He knew.

It was warning. They had sent him a warning.

Crim wasn't sure how long they would wait, but this might've been a sign that their patience was starting to run thin. Not a good sign, then.

He resumed his walk, his face now grim.

His plans would have to wait. Theirs could not. He knew there was no point in delaying it now. It was time to start to get to work.

And he walked away, a small brooding figure, calming his mind as he began to plan his first moves.

* * *

><p>Tracer Bullet looked up, his eyes narrowed.<p>

Next to the detective, Hobbes sat chewing on a cheeseburger he had bought from the small fast-food outlet they were sitting in. He ate thoughtfully.

"Strange thing is," he mumbled through a full mouth. "Though all of this is supposed to be a part of the mind and an illusion or something like that, the food tastes quite real to me. Albeit the cheese is a bit stale, and heavens knows they need to check their mustard brand, but it still tastes normal. And it feels like it's actually filling my stomach. I mean, I don't even have a stomach. This is just an imaginary body constructed from my memory for my own convenience. Come to think about it, it feels like this whole place is- Uh, Bullet? Bullet? Oi! Detective!"

Bullet started. "Eh? You said something?"

Hobbes glared at him. "No, I was just commenting on the weather to the passing pigeons."

Bullet looked around. "Don't see any pigeons in here," he shrugged.

Hobbes stared at him suspiciously, wondering if he was being sarcastic.

"So," he said, taking another bite. "How are we going to save Calvin?"

"We have to find him first."

"And how do we do that?"

To his annoyance, Bullet seemed distracted again. He was looking out of the window, scanning the view.

"Something wrong?" Hobbes asked.

"No, it's nothing." He didn't sound so sure however.

Turning to Hobbes, the private eye said, "Calvin should be trapped in the deepest layers of the Subconscious. How deep and exactly where we don't know. But I'm sure that when we get close I'll be able to sense him."

Hobbes nodded skeptically. "Right, so we just keep on looking in this big fat ocean of wilderness until we hit the jackpot. Is that what you're saying?"

"It will be a bit easier than it sounds," said Bullet. "Right now our main objective is to travel deeper and deeper through the layers of the Subconscious. The sooner the better. We'll have to go quietly, keep to ourselves, and try to draw as little attention as possible to ourselves. We'll still probably be facing some challenges on the way."

"Hear, hear."

"Does that satisfy you?"

"Nope," Hobbes said. "How do we know which way is up and which way is down? Do we have to literally go deep? Like climb down into the sewers or something?"

"It's not really that simple."

"Well, I'm happy as long as there aren't any sewers. The rats there are completely filthy. They're bound to give you indigestion."

"Just follow my lead, okay tiger. I'll know which way is down. Anyways, you'll probably get some idea of navigating your way in this place sooner or later."

Hobbes nodded but said nothing. Even now, he felt a shiver of fear at the thought of the daunting task that lay ahead of them.

You couldn't measure this place. It was immaterial. A hundred feet might well turn out to be a thousand. Or even less than a meter. They were probably billions of different worlds jammed inside his best friend's cranium.

How could he learn to find his way around here?

They had gotten up and went to pay their check, which meant Tracer thumping a few notes on the counter and then, in response to the cashier's protest, opening his coat to show off his shiny gun. When they turned and left, Tracer spoke to Hobbes in a low voice.

"Remember, keep contact with the people here to a minimum. Don't attract attention to yourself, okay."

"Right," Hobbes muttered, glancing back at the cashier's stunned face. "Gotchya."

As they stepped through the doors, Hobbes noticed that something still seemed to be bugging the hotshot detective. He was glancing around, eyes narrowed, his movements twitchy and suspicious. His nostrils dilated like he was trying to catch some fugitive whiff.

Hobbes took a deep breath through his own nose. The air seemed normal enough. As musty, thick and as polluted as ever. Man, cities stink.

"Something wrong?" asked Hobbes.

Tracer shook his head.

"Something feels… different," he muttered.

"Oh, well that explains it." Hobbes rolled his eyes.

"I think it might have sensed our presence."

A chill passed through the tiger. And it had nothing to do with the temperature.

"Already?" he said nervously. "But we just got here."

Tracer shrugged. "Time is pretty much irrelative in the mind."

"But I thought my presence was supposed to confuse it," Hobbes said. "How could it have found us so quickly?"

"I'm not saying it knows where we are. I just think that it knows that… well that we are. That we are in its domain. Somewhere."

Hobbes looked around. His fur was tingling.

"So how long until it finds us?"

"Don't know. Our best chance is to keep moving and keep low."

"Right, and you're an expert at that, aren't you? How long do you think it'll take that cashier to call the cops?"

Bullet ignored the comment and started walking down the sidewalk. Hobbes followed him.

"It's not just that the Subconscious might have sensed us," he said to Hobbes. "It's the Subconscious itself. It seems so… different."

"Well, it does belong to a psychotic criminal now," Hobbes shrugged. "Obviously some renovations must've been made."

They had come near a large parking lot standing next to a mall. Cars and two-wheelers of all shapes and sizes sat in their lots. More were coming and leaving every minute. The mall itself was a colossal work of glass and steel with large billboards hanging on its sides, advertising the latest sales.

Hobbes scratched his fuzzy chin. "I wonder if they have some tuna in the grocery stores."

"We just ate Hobbes," Bullet groaned exasperatedly.

"We've got to stock up for the journey ahead," he said. "We won't be passing by supermarkets every day, will we?"

"No."

"Right, then I'll go and-"

"Actually, I meant no."

"Come on, even you must get hung-"

"_No."_

"But we need to-"

"_I said no!"_ the detective snapped.

Hobbes stepped back. From the moment he first met him, Tracer Bullet had always maintained a calm and controlled air. This was the first time he'd seen him give such an outburst.

He glared.

"Hmph, aren't you in a bad mood all of a sudden?"

"Yes, I am," Bullet snarled. "And having a heavy fur coat for a companion isn't helping my temper!"

"Well you don't have to vent it all on me!"

"You think we're here for a walk in park?" said Bullet. "This is your best mate's life we're talking about. If he goes, then all of this goes too!"

He gestured around them.

"Yes, I do understand that, alright!" Hobbes said. "He's _my_ friend and I don't need some brainy, lunkhead detective to tell me that. Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not a superhero, or a space explorer or a stupid private eye!"

"Then why are you here, Hobbes?" Bullet glared at him.

At that moment, it struck Hobbes how similar his eyes were to Crim's.

"What is the point of you if you're so useless?"

Hobbes felt his own eyes sting.

"I am not useless," he hissed furiously.

Bullet sneered. "You haven't done anything to prove otherwise. What do you think you can do here, Hobbes? Eh? You and your little toothpicks."

Hobbes growled. He spread his fingers and allowed his claws to flick out their sheaths.

"You wanna call them toothpicks again?" said the tiger, his body tensed.

Bullet stared, unimpressed.

"Put those away, son. You'll hurt yourself."

His condescending tone only worsened Hobbes's anger. He snarled, his fur bristling, and took a step forward.

Bullet's hand was suddenly lost in the folds of his coat. Hobbes knew his fingers were ready over the handle of his gun.

They stood there, tensed, waiting. The wind seemed to be holding its breath. People were still passing by, not taking notice of the pair.

"You think you can take me on," Hobbes growled, his eyes narrowed. "I'm stronger than you think. And fast."

"Not even a tiger can outrun a bullet." Tracer's voice was calm but brittle. His hand shifted to a firmer grip.

Hobbes glared at him with hatred. Hatred of his calm air, his smugness, his outdated style- hatred of everything about him. His body tensed like a coiled spring, ready to leap, to spring forward, to pounce on his prey. And then-

Hobbes blinked. He hesitated. Bullet was still there, standing, watching him warily.

"You think you can pull this rescue mission off without me?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Bullet shrugged. "It would be a trifle easier, yes."

"So that's what I am? A trifle?"

"Last time I checked."

Hobbes gritted his teeth, trying to control his anger, his frustration. He had volunteered to go on this stupid mission, not only to save Calvin, but to prove his mettle, to show that he wasn't a coward. And here he was still being treated like a child.

"Fine! Let's see you cope on your own!"

And he turned and stalked away. Bullet didn't stop him and he didn't turn around to look. All he wanted was to get away from him. From that person who was so smug and mature, so quick with a gun, and who also reminded him so much of his best friend.

That stubbornness, that attitude- heavens, it was infuriating! The very reason why Calvin got into so many scuffles at school.

But Hobbes knew the other was reason why he wanted to get away. Suppressing a shudder, he remembered his thoughts, just a few moments ago, when he had been facing Bullet.

Hobbes looked down to at his hand, where his claws were still poking out of his fur. He retracted them, taking a deep breath.

He had actually been thinking of hurting him, of _killing him._ Hobbes had gotten into many fights with Calvin before but they had always been in good fun. Never had he felt that furious, that vengeful, that intent on causing pain.

Tigers were predators by nature but this was the first time he was experiencing the instinct to kill.

And he didn't like it.

* * *

><p>Bullet watched Hobbes stride off. The tiger walked away without a backward glance, crossing the street. He was heading towards the mall.<p>

He wondered if he should call him back, but hesitated. A part of him was saying- _Let him go_. Let the stuck up cat have his way. Let _him_ cope on his own if he wanted to. The other part of him almost agreed.

The feline fool was probably going to buy tuna from the supermarket.

Good god, this was the reason he never had a sidekick!

He stood there for few unsure moments, then decided with a resigned shrug. No. He had to get him back. He wasn't safe on his own. Not here. Not anywhere.

Bullet sighed. He hoped he wasn't going to have to apologize to him.

He glanced around him and, to his surprise, spotted a sign stuck onto a nearby telephone pole. It read: 'A friend in need is a friend indeed'.

He frowned at it. Coincidence?

Turning back to the street, Bullet checked to see if any cars were coming and then crossed it. He moved quickly, hoping to cut Hobbes off before he reached the mall. That way he might save some money too.

He bypassed an approaching car, reached the curb, stepped onto the sidewalk-

-and found himself standing on the same spot he had just left behind him.

Bullet froze, confused. He turned around. The other side was there. Standing next to him was the same telephone pole with the friendship sign. But he'd just crossed. How was he back in the same place?

Frowning, he looked at the opposite sidewalk, focusing his gaze on a lamp post standing directly in his line of sight.

Then he crossed again. This time, he moved carefully, deliberately, keeping his eyes fixed on the post. He paused when he neared the other side.

It was still there.

Holding his breath, Bullet stepped onto the sidewalk. Nothing happened. The lamp post was still there.

He relaxed.

He looked at mall, scanning the area around it. He spotted Hobbes making his way through the parking lot, already halfway through.

That was fast.

Bullet glanced behind him- and immediately wished he hadn't.

"Oh, jesus-"

Behind him, he saw the mall, the same mall with the same parking lot standing next to it.

Bullet looked back and cursed. He was staring at the telephone pole. He turned around and gritted his teeth

Not far away, the lamp post's light seemed to be winking at him.

This time he broke out into a run. He hurried down the street, disregarding the angry car horns. The lamp post was getting closer with each step. He was almost there.

BLLEEEEEP!

Bullet came to an abrupt halt as a car swerved to avoid him, its tires screeching. When he looked in front of him, the telephone pole was standing there again.

"Goddam!"

He turned and sprinted back the way he had come. At least he thought it was.

He saw the mall, the parking lot, the lamp post just feet away from him.

But as soon as Bullet reached it, as soon as he jumped across the curb, the pole was standing there in its place. He was back on the same side.

Bullet clenched his fists, wanting to punch the metal column. His eyes went to the sign and, with a wrench in his gut, he saw two exclamation marks and a smiley drawn after the proverb. The word friend had been underlined.

_A friend in need…_

Bullet looked back.

Hobbes!

He was already near the mall, an obscure figure.

Holy hell, it was trying to separate them.

"No!"

Bullet cursed and broke out into a desperate run, ignoring the traffic frenzy.

Drivers shouted, horns beeped, cars screeched to a halt- but he continued running, swerving in an out of the vehicles.

He jumped for the lamp post, barely missed being hit by a speeding bus- only to crash into the telephone pole. Bullet stumbled back, quickly regaining his bearings.

He turned and blindly ran back again.

_What are you up to?_ He thought savagely.

This time the traffic rush brought him to a halt several times but he continued to move forward, eliciting more insults and shouts from angry drivers. He bypassed a car, swerved to avoid a biker, leapt over an open manhole, reached the sidewalk- and then stopped.

Bullet stood still, breathing heavily. He stared at the lamp post right in front of him and strove to calm himself.

It was there. The lamp post was right there. Just one more step- and then what? It would turn into the telephone pole again.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Hobbes nearing the mall's entrance, but he focused on the lamp. Concentrating, he closed his eyes and hesitantly felt outward, felt his surroundings, felt the Subconscious.

He could feel it, its innumerable threads of fragmented thought and memories, weaving together to form a never ending network. Never ending, but always changing, always rebuilding, reforming. It was a maelstrom of pure energy, with entire worlds being created and swept away in seconds. It was a like an infinite puzzle with its pieces always moving, always reassembling into newer and more intricate patterns.

It was a web. And Bullet knew it better than anyone. Just like Spiff and Stupendous Man, he had spent his whole life wondering through it, growing acquainted with it, becoming a part of it. The Subconscious was his home. And, even in its mutilated state, he still had some control over it.

Bullet opened his eyes. His breath came calm and steady. He relaxed his muscles and stood straight. His face was expressionless as he watched the lamp post in front of him. Cars passed, people walked by, but he stood there, focusing with all his will on that single object.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he raised his foot, and stepped onto the sidewalk.

Faster than he could see, the lamp post morphed into the telephone pole. It had changed again.

"_NO!" _

In one moment of pure frustration and rage, Bullet shut his eyes and pushed outwards, pushed outwards with his mind and, with all the strength he could muster, forcing his will over his surroundings, over the Subconscious.

When he opened his eyes, tired, panting, the lamp post was there, as if it had always been there. He was on the other side. Finally.

That was the good news. The bad news?

Everybody was staring at him.

Bullet looked around, feeling a chill go down his spine.

The very air seemed to have stilled. There was no sound. No horns, no voices- not even the noise of the crowd's footsteps. It was as if the world had been muted.

The cars were still moving, the people were still walking but as they did- their eyes were fixed on him. All of them. Vehicles slowed down as they passed and their drivers watched Bullet, watched him silently.

The detective glanced up and saw faces leering at him through the smudged windows of the buildings.

His hand slipped inside his coat, where it tightened over the familiar grip of his handgun.

It was as if all of creation had paused to regard him. And regard him with only one emotion: Hostility.

He could see it in their eyes. All of them. They were cold and merciless, boring into him, making no effort to disguise their hatred.

Bullet glanced at the mall. He couldn't see Hobbes anywhere. He was inside.

Slowly, Bullet started walking. Soon, he was running flat out, his coat flapping behind him, weaving in and out of the silent crowd. Hostile eyes were boring into him from every direction.

He made for the parking lot which led to the mall. Hobbes was there. Alone. And in danger. They were both in danger.

The Subconscious had found them.

And it watched with deathly silence as the detective ran to the aid of his friend.

* * *

><p>AN_- Yes, I know. Really long wait. But hey, longer chapter too, right? I thought it would be okay to have it extra long since, unfortunately, I will have to take a small break from Destination Mind. I'm going to be pretty busy for the next week or two. I won't be getting much time to work on the next chapter. I promise I'll be back, though. This story's not over yet._


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